


Got Your Number

by alex_caligari



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abuse of Italics and Ellipses, Also Tired of Your BS Hunk, Alternate Universe - College/University, Art references & Allusions, Bets & Wagers, Canada, Graduate School, Insecure Keith (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Being an Idiot, Literary References & Allusions, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Sassy Pidge | Katie Holt, Shock, Slow Burn, Supportive Hunk, TROPES FOR DAYS, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-03-11 18:27:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 35,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13530036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alex_caligari/pseuds/alex_caligari
Summary: The one where Hunk bets Lance that he can't get the phone number of the hot new librarian within a week, and Lance realizes that he's in for more than he bargained for.





	1. The Bet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone new was working at the library.

_“You see someone on the street, and essentially what you notice about them is the flaw.” — Diane Arbus_

Someone new was working at the university library.

Lance stared as he walked through the large glass doors and past the front desk. A young man about his age was typing on the computer. Dark hair fell over a sharp face and — was he wearing fingerless gloves? Lance frowned. Librarians shouldn’t look cool. They should look awkward and adorable and like they needed to be wrapped in a sweater.

The guy looked up and Lance fell over a book cart.

“Oof!” He folded over the top of the cart, barking his shin on the metal edge. _Smooth move, idiot._ He kept his face down as he straightened. Taking out a scrap of paper, he pretended to peruse the books as if that’s what he intended to do all along. A quick glance over his shoulder showed him that the guy’s attention was back on the computer. Still keeping his head low, he hunched his backpack higher on his shoulder and headed for the photography section.

He collected the books he actually needed and dumped them on a table already half covered with papers. His study partner looked up.

“Hey, man, you made it,” Hunk said. “I thought you had bailed again.”

“Nah, I need to get this paper done.” Lance could see the front desk from where he stood. The new guy was stretching in his chair, reaching his arms above his head.

“Something wrong?” Hunk asked.

“Huh?” Lance glanced at him. “Oh, no. I just haven’t seen the new librarian before.”

Hunk looked over. “Yeah, he started back in January. It’s a placement program the school does with its Lib Sci students.” Lance could feel the weight of Hunk’s consideration. “Why, you like him?” Hunk teased.

Lance’s head snapped around. “What? No. I only just saw him. How would I know if I like him?”

Hunk rested his head in his hand. “Hasn’t stopped you before.”

Lance scowled. “He has a mullet.” Hunk shrugged as if to say, _So?_ “How do you know all this about him?”

“I have my sources.”

“Yeah, girls who will do anything for a cupcake,” Lance said as he sank into his chair.

“Not just girls.” Hunk winked.

“Gross,” Lance said. “I don’t need to hear about you corrupting the entire student body with your confectionery.”

“Oh, we both know who corrupts ‘bodies’ around here.”

Lance sniffed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’d flirt with anything that had two legs and a pulse, and the legs are optional.” Hunk pointed a finger at him. “You, sir, are a harlot.”

Lance put a hand to his chest. “Hunk, I’m scandalized. Where did you even pick up that sort of language? You used to be so innocent.”

“You don’t spend time in commercial kitchens and remain innocent.”

Lance squared up his books with the edge of the table. “How’s the practicum going, by the way?”

Hunk brightened. “Good. Fantastic, even. I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but I might actually be in the running for a masterclass headband. At least, that’s what I think Coran is hinting at. That Kiwi accent sometimes gets out of hand.”

“I hear ya,” Lance said. “I mean, I’ve never met him, but I’m sure your impressions are dead on.”

Hunk threw a paper airplane at him. “Do your homework.”

Lance stuck his tongue out at him, but opened the first reference book. Hunk was reading something about pasteurized versus unpasteurized cheese, while Lance was looking up the Panic Movement. A French theatre group from the 1960s shouldn’t have had much to do with photography, but Lance’s thesis advisor was big on interdisciplinary learning. And honestly, he found the surrealists fascinating.

At least, he normally did. His attention kept wandering back to the front desk where the new assistant sat. What about him had caught Lance’s eye? Library science meant grad student, and those came in all shapes and sizes, so he didn’t stand out that way. Take Hunk’s friend Pidge; she was only nineteen and doing her master’s degree in computer forensics. But she was a genius, so maybe that didn’t count.

He ran his fingers over his mouth. The assistant was talking to another student and staring at her. On someone else, the expression would look interested, but on him, it just looked intense. The girl was wilting under his gaze. Lance wanted to capture that strange wariness the assistant’s eyes held.

He shook his head. He wanted to be the next great gonzo photographer and here he was mooning over the light in someone’s eyes. He caught Hunk staring at him. “What?”

Hunk lifted an eyebrow. “You have that look.”

“No, I don’t. What look?”

“That look that means you’re locked on target.” He counted points off on his fingers. “You’ve been staring at the new guy for the last ten minutes, you’re frowning like you’re trying to solve a puzzle, and you keep touching your mouth.”

Lance snatched his hand away from his face. “So?”

“So,” Hunk drawled, “I’ve seen the signs before. You’ll probably be asking for his number by the end of the day. Anything with a pulse, remember?”

“What? No. I’m not some sleazy womanizer. Manizer. Whatever.” Lance crossed his arms. “I have absolutely no interest in a boring librarian.”

“They’re never boring on the internet,” Hunk muttered.

Lance pretended to gag. “Again, gross. You need to get out of those kitchens and into something purer. A grandmother’s bakery, maybe.”

Hunk scoffed as Lance glanced once more at the front desk. _Damn it, he’s right._ “I’m not going to get his number.” He snatched up a textbook. “I have too much to do.”

“Uh huh,” Hunk said.

“I am not interested.”

“I believe you.”

Lance narrowed his eyes at him. That comment about his flirting had got under his skin. He didn’t do it with everyone. He hadn’t flirted with Hunk when he met him. He just liked making people feel special and noticed in the moment. But maybe that’s not how other people saw it.

“You know what?” he said. “I’ll show you. I can go over there and talk to that guy like a normal human being and there will be no flirting or getting of numbers. I can do that. I can be mature about this.” Lance stood as Hunk gave him a thumbs-up in response.

He walked up to the front desk with a determined stride. As he got closer, he was willing to admit that maybe the guy didn’t have a mullet. But he did have the shaggy look of a person who didn’t have someone telling them to get a haircut regularly.

Lance got as far as leaning on the front desk and saying, “Hi, the name’s Lance,” when he realized he didn’t have a follow-up. He froze for a second too long as the guy looked up at him with raised eyebrows.

“Hi. Keith,” he said after a beat. When Lance still didn’t speak, he added, “Didn’t find what you needed in the book cart?”

Lance tried to laugh it off as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, saw that, did ya? Yeah, I needed something on Alejandro Jodorowsky.”

“No wonder you didn’t find it there. That cart is all immunology.” Keith’s expression didn’t change save for a small crinkling around his eyes.

 _Is he making fun of me?_ “Right, right,” he said. “Hence, why I need your help. Specifically in reference to the Panic Movement.”

Keith stared at him a moment longer, as if deciding if he was serious, then typed the information into his computer. “We have three books, all of which are available.” He wrote down the titles and reference numbers. Lance already had two of them in his study pile.

“Thanks,” he said. “Much appreciated.”

“It’s my job.” Again, Keith’s tone was flat and his expression blank. Either he was super oblivious to social niceties or had already dismissed Lance as not worth his time.

“Yup,” Lance said as he backed away. “Keep doing it…excellently.” He turned away before he could embarrass himself further. He stalked back to the study table, the book list scrunched in his hand.

“Not one word,” he said to Hunk, who had clamped a hand over his mouth to contain his laughter.

“Was that how you think a normal, mature person acts in public?” Hunk said. He wiped tears from his eyes as a few chuckles escaped.

“Shut up.” Lance slumped back into his chair.

“No, I really want to know. Was that the plan? Introduce yourself and hope he fills in the rest?”

“Hey, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

Hunk raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry, man, really. I’ve just never seen you crash and burn that hard. It was like a miracle, but bad. A once in a lifetime event.”

“Yeah, well, it’ll go better next time,” Lance muttered to his textbooks.

Hunk perked up. “Next time?”

Lance blinked. That had slipped out without thinking. Did he want a next time? He wanted Keith to not think he was an idiot. Their interaction left him with an uncomfortable feeling he wasn’t used to. “You know what? Yeah. There is going to be a next time and it’ll go so well that _he’ll_ be asking for _my_ number.”

He was able to bask in his triumphant declaration for a full three seconds until Hunk said, “Wanna bet?”

It was those two words that changed everything. Lance should have forgotten all about Keith and focused on his final portfolio. But Hunk had called him out and now he had to prove himself. And Lance never backed down from a challenge. Ever.

He leaned over the table like a conspirator. “What are the terms?”

“You get one week,” Hunk said, his eyes shining with mischief. “Seven days, starting tomorrow and ending next Sunday at midnight. If that guy —”

“Keith,” Lance supplied.

“Keith,” Hunk said. “If Keith gives you his number in a quasi-romantic, ‘I’m interested’ capacity — and without prompting from you — then you get two dozen of my mango cupcakes.”

Lance’s mouth watered. Those were his favourite. “What if he gives it to me as a matter of convenience and not interest?”

“Doesn’t count. Has to be rom-com worthy.”

Lance rubbed his chin. “And if I lose? Which I won’t, by the way.”

“I get to cook whatever I want at home and you clean. For a month.”

“What!” Hunk was a beautiful human being and Lance’s best friend, but he was an absolute pig. It had driven Lance mad the first year they lived together until they agreed that Hunk would use the school kitchens as often as possible and Lance would avoid going into Hunk’s room. “Why a month?”

“To give you proper motivation.” Hunk had already returned to his journal article.

Lance turned to the front desk. Keith had thrown on a worn red leather jacket that draped over his shoulders like it was made for him. He headed for the front doors. “A week, huh?” Lance held out his hand to Hunk. “No problem.”

Hunk grinned as he shook his hand, sealing the deal. “All the best to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is as much based on my own liberal arts undergrad and grad school experiences as it is fictional. Gonzo photography is wholly made-up by me, based on Hunter S. Thompson's gonzo journalism writing style.
> 
> Updates every Wednesday!


	2. Monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance tries to get the attention of the hot librarian and to no one's surprise but his, things don't go as planned.

_“The writer must be a participant in the scene…like a film director who writes his own scripts, does his own camera work, and somehow manages to film himself in action, as the protagonist or at least the main character.” — Hunter S. Thompson_

The first day was awful.

Lance rolled into the library on Monday morning — after walking past the glass doors several times until he saw Keith — and went straight to the front desk. Keith looked up but didn’t appear to recognize him.

“Morning,” Lance said. “I’m doing a paper on the Mordançage process and need to do some pretty obscure research. Think you could give me some suggestions?” He put on his best charming smile and even tilted his head down to really emphasize the doe eyes.

“I’ll see what we have.” Keith spent a minute clicking around on the computer while Lance waited. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he ended up stuffing them into his pockets.

“Have you been working here long?” _Go slow_. Maybe the guy was shy or awkward. Didn’t want him to get spooked and freeze Lance out on the first day.

“Since the start of the semester,” Keith said, not looking up.

“I heard that the library does a placement program with its Library Science students. Are you a part of that?”

Keith turned to him. Lance wanted to brush his hair out of his face. “Yeah.”

Lance waited. And waited. “Cool,” he said finally. “Cool, cool. How’d you get into a program like that? I doubt they can take everyone.”

Keith sighed, getting exasperated. “No, it’s pretty hard to get into. First of all, you have to be a Lib Sci student.” He raised an eyebrow pointedly.

Lance waved his hands in front of him. “Oh no, I didn’t mean me. Ha ha. No, that’s ridiculous.” _Crap, crap, crap_. “I was just wondering, you know, for a friend.”

“Uh huh.” Behind Keith, a printer whirred. He reached over and grabbed a sheet of paper off it. “Here’s a list of resources. Some will need to be brought in from other libraries, so let us know if you’re under a deadline.” He looked at Lance with a challenge in his eye. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Lance wilted, just like that girl yesterday. “Um, no. Thanks for this, though.” He glanced at the sheet. There were a dozen book titles and journal articles. He could write his whole thesis using these materials alone. “Wow, thanks a lot, actually. This is amazing.”

Was it a trick of the light or did Keith’s gaze soften a little bit? “No problem,” he said. “It’s my job.”

“Yeah.” Some of Lance’s confidence was coming back. He winked at Keith, who stiffened in surprise. “Great job.” He leaned one hand on the desk. “Anything else you’d like to do for me?”

Keith froze. “What?”

“You know, something that would make this a whole lot more pleasant?”

“Like?”

Lance gritted his teeth as he remembered Hunk’s rules. “Like adding a more personal touch.”

Fire sparked in Keith’s gaze. “Are you asking me to cheat for you?”

“What? No —”

“Because that’s a violation of the student and staff code of ethics. You want to cheat, find someone else to do it.”

Lance gaped in disbelief. “I wasn’t trying to cheat. I only wanted —”

“I have work to do.” Keith stood and walked into the workroom behind the desk, dismissing Lance entirely.

Lance fumed and considered leaving the paper in tiny shreds. But the list of resources was too precious, so he settled on kicking the desk and storming off into the depths of the library.

He spent half an hour printing off journal articles, ordering books, and checking out the rest — from a different librarian. There was no sign of Keith.

Then he went down to the student lounge. A dozen tables littered a room with a small cafe on one end and a battered pool table on the other. A flat-screen television, currently showing a local hockey game, was mounted on the wall in the corner. Half the tables were already filled with undergrads surrounded by either stacks of textbooks or empty coffee cups. _Ah, to be a freshman again_.

Hunk was with Pidge at a table near the back, which was covered with paperwork and Pidge’s laptop. Lance fell into an empty chair and flopped over the papers — a safer option than risking the laptop. Pidge had once threatened to both destroy his credit score and make sure he never walked straight again if he touched it.

“How’d it go, big guy?” Hunk asked.

“I think he actually hates me,” Lance said, muffled by the table. “I thought librarians only hated loud people. I was seeking knowledge.”

“What’s this about?” Pidge asked.

Hunk yanked out a sheaf of papers from under Lance’s face. “I bet Lance that he couldn’t get a guy’s number in a week. Means he has to be charming instead of an idiot.”

She snickered. “Dude, you’re hooped.”

Lance groaned and lifted his head. “You know, you could be more supportive. Or helpful in any meaningful way.”

She gave him a lazy smile. “And why would I do that?”

“Because if I win, there are a dozen mango cupcakes with your name on them.”

“No outside help,” Hunk said, but Pidge was already leaning forward.

“He’s a librarian,” she whispered _sotto voce_ , “so ask him about _books_.”

Lance scowled. “I hate you.”

Pidge rolled her eyes so hard it must have hurt.

Lance slumped back on the table. The papers in front of him were full of timetables and unfamiliar abbreviations. “Are you guys planning a war or something?”

“Just my schedule for the summer term,” Pidge said.

“Summer? It’s only April.”

“And I’m doing an accelerated program. I have to make sure I can fit in all the program requirements and the core courses, plus any electives that I want.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Hunk said. “You’ll probably invent a time machine by the end of the year and people will just hand you the degree.”

Lance watched as she preened at the compliment. “How’d you end up at a liberal arts campus in the middle of Saskatchewan anyway? Shouldn’t you be at some big-shot place like MIT?”

Pidge shrugged. “My parents wanted ‘balanced’ children. I thought it was a stupid idea at first, but then Matt came home from his first year at this bigwig tech school.” She pointed to the front of her too-large hoodie. It had the name of a university out in Ontario on it. “I love my brother to death and I’ll be the first to admit he’s probably smarter than me, but he’s dumb as a brick when it comes to the wider world. I once asked if he had studied any Thomas Hardy at school and he asked if he was the guy from the Batman movie. That pretty much sealed the deal.”

Lance grinned. “Keats and coding, get a girl who can do both.”

Pidge smiled primly. Then grabbed Lance’s wrist, forcing his arm behind his back and his face onto the table.

“What the hell! Pidge!”

“You forgot jujitsu.” She released him with a wink.

Hunk didn’t seem surprised by the display, only straightening his stack of paper. “Pidge, don’t tease him. The poor boy can’t possibly keep up with all of your hobbies.”

Lance grumbled as he straightened and brushed himself off. “I come down here to say hello and what does it get me? Nothing but abuse.” He checked the time on his phone. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with Allura to keep. Pidge, you still coming to dinner?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” She was beaming at his attempts to regain his dignity.

“Right. See you both tonight.” He waved as he turned away.

“I hope you have better luck with her than you did with Keith,” Hunk called to his retreating back. Lance flipped him off as he left the lounge.

&&&

Pidge turned on Hunk as soon as Lance was gone. “Okay, spill. What was all that about a bet?”

Hunk shuffled more papers. Pidge didn’t mention that he was mixing her cybersecurity research into her dorm room application. “Not much to tell. Lance wanted to prove a point and Keith was the closest target.” He very much did not meet Pidge’s gaze.

She narrowed her eyes. “I’ve met Keith. He doesn’t seem Lance’s type.”

“Well, stranger things have caught his interest.” If Hunk focused any harder on that timetable, he’d set it on fire.

She drummed her fingers on the table, waiting.

Actual sweat was breaking out on his forehead. “Fine,” he burst out. “I perhaps heard from Shay that there was a new guy at the library and he keeps to himself and doesn’t seem to have any friends and then I got a copy of his work schedule and maybe planned to have Lance meet me there at the same time he was working. But that’s it.”

Pidge grinned. “You sly dog. Are you playing matchmaker?”

Hunk rubbed the back of his neck. “Not really. Not intentionally. It’s more that Lance needs a focus. He’s been a bit weird lately. He used to never shut up about photography, but now —” He shrugged. “It’s like he’s going through the motions. Maybe the pressure of his final portfolio and thesis is getting to him. I thought that a challenge would help, something fun he could concentrate on and get his groove back.”

Pidge snorted and Hunk gave her a flat look. “Sorry, but that’s called matchmaking. Why Keith? Why the bet?”

“The bet was to keep him focused so he won’t give up and get distracted by the next person to flutter their eyelashes at him. And why Keith?” Hunk shrugged again. “Maybe having someone as direct and relentless as Lance around would get him to open up more.”

Pidge leaned back in her seat. “That’s…actually pretty well reasoned out.”

“Thank you.” He closed his eyes in self-satisfaction.

“Unless it all goes horribly wrong.”

Hunk’s eyes popped open. “What.”

“These are people we’re talking about.” She waved to the table covered in paper. “Not computer code or baking. Things can get unpredictable.”

Hunk was pale. “Oh god. What if this messes him up entirely? He could flunk his thesis. I could have just destroyed his entire post-grad career.”

Pidge rubbed her eyes under her glasses. “Hunk, it’ll be fine. He has us on his team to make sure he doesn’t mess up too spectacularly.”

Leaning on the table, Hunk took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. Wait, we’re helping him?”

“Of course.” Pidge smirked.

Hunk narrowed his eyes at her expression. “What are you plotting?”

“Who’s plotting?” She gave him her most wicked grin. “I’m _scheming_.”

Hunk groaned and put his head in his hands. “Why are you doing this to me?”

Pidge patted his head. “Because it’s fun.”

&&&

Lance sat in silence as Allura Enmeushumgalanna, professor of photography and head of the Fine Arts department, examined his portfolio. Other people might have used the silence as a power move, but she used it to take in the images. She examined them not for flaws, but for merit. Allura was the whole reason he came to this campus, and he knew how lucky he was that she was his thesis advisor. He looked at her award-winning shots on the wall behind her. They were stark portraits of women with various animal anatomy covering them; lion paws over faces, bird wings over breasts, all turned away from the lens. It made the subjects anonymous yet powerful.

Allura turned a page. Lance resisted the urge to look behind him at her other wall of photos. It was an eclectic mess of styles, hand-picked from her students over the years. He knew that the placement was deliberate. People coming in would see Allura’s art, but she would see her students’. Lance desperately wanted to earn a place up there.

Another page turn. His gaze flicked between the ceramic mouse figurines on her desk up to her strangely ageless face. But she gave nothing away.

His leg started bouncing. “Well?” he blurted. “What do you think?”

She turned the last page and examined it for a moment before closing the portfolio and handing it back to Lance. “You need some portraits without, well, you in it.” Her smooth English accent did little to soften the blow.

“But.” He stopped, uncertain that he should question her judgement. But she gestured for him to go on. “But being part of the subject is the whole point of gonzo.”

“And I respect that. You’ve made great strides in exploring a very rare aesthetic.” He knew she was being sincere. It was another reason he loved working with her. “But I need to see your breadth as well as your depth. This program is about versatility. I need, to put it bluntly, to see you put your subject before yourself.”

Lance opened his mouth to say something — he didn’t know what — when she put up her hand. “This isn’t an attack on your character. I’m not implying that you are in any way egotistical. In fact, all your models have been very complimentary. It’s easy to make your subject feel comfortable when you’re in there with them.” She raised a delicate brow. “Sometimes a little too much.”

Lance crossed his arms over his chest and laughed weakly. His last photo assignment had involved a nude model and he may have gone a bit too John Lennon with it. Allura had given it back to him with a note saying she didn’t need to see quite so much of her student’s posterior. “That definitely won’t happen again.”

“The point I’m trying to make,” she continued, sweeping her white hair over her shoulder, “is that you need to create that same sort of intimacy without being in the photo itself. That is the challenge: to give someone an intimate attitude even within solitude. I know you can do it. You’ve grown enormously over the past two years and you have a great deal of talent.”

“Thanks.” He stared down at the folder in his lap.

“Something wrong?”

Lance took a deep breath. He looked up into Allura’s striking eyes, so blue they were almost violet against her dark skin. It was a secret dream of his to photograph her and capture her ethereal presence. But he’d never even had the courage to ask where she came from, with her unpronounceable last name and unusual colouring. Asking her to model for him was way beyond his abilities. “I guess I’m wondering where to start with this. I mean, it sounds so stilted and formulaic. You know, pose a subject, take a picture.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Nothing against our contracted models, but they’re professionals. I need something —” His hands fluttered as he tried to convey what he meant.

“Raw,” Allura said.

He pointed at her. “Yes! Exactly. I need raw.” He paused as Allura’s smile turned mischievous. “What?”

“Do you know why I wanted to be your advisor, Lance?”

“My charming personality and baby blues?”

“Unfortunately, no.” She leaned towards him. “When most students come into this program, they already have an idea of how they want to capture the world. They want to take this idea — whether it’s a subject or a concept or an emotion — and bring it to the forefront of the photo. They want to confront people with it. I’m not saying it’s wrong, but people usually adjust that idea as they go through the program.” She gave him a shrewd look. “But you came with the desire to hide the meaningful within the seemingly meaningless. Your work might appear self-indulgent or flippant at first, but there’s always something unexpected just off to the side. It was unpredictable. And I found that interesting.”

“Oh.” Lance didn’t know how to react to that. Allura was always very kind about his work, but to have it laid out like that…something warm crept into his chest.

“So when you ask how to take that unexpected, unpredictable rawness and apply it to a model…” She spread her hands in an exaggerated shrug. “It’s your aesthetic, Lance. No one has really done what you’re trying to do. It makes it hard to know what the rules are.” She winked. “But then again, you’re the one making the rules.”

Lance nodded once. “I just need to find the right person.”

“Yes. Someone who matches you. Someone with a wild and chaotic energy that you can channel either as a distraction or a focus. Use it to your advantage.” Her eyes shone. “Understand?”

“Yes. I mean, I think so. But I’ll figure it out.”

“Good.” She stood and walked around her desk. Lance followed her to the door. “Do you want another secret?” she said. “If you create a bond with your subject, then nothing will seem artificial.”

“A bond. Right. I can do that.” He thanked Allura and waved as he left, but his thoughts were focused on sharp eyes and overgrown dark hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allura’s photographs are based on the style of Amy Judd.
> 
> Updates every Wednesday!


	3. Tuesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance tries a new tactic and it appears to work a little too well.

_“Failure doesn’t mean anything, it just means changing paths.” — Alejandro Jodorowsky_

On Tuesday morning, Lance stood outside the library for so long that Hunk’s friend Shay — everyone seemed to be Hunk’s friend to one degree or another — came out to investigate. The sight of her bare arms in the sharp spring air made Lance hunch deeper into his jacket.

“What are you doing out here, Blue Eyes?” she asked. Her hoop earrings chimed softly as she tilted her head.

“Nothing,” he said.

“Uh huh. Freezing your flat ass off admiring the architecture, then?”

He glared at her, but there was little heat in it. “My ass is not flat, I’m just lanky.”

“That, while hilariously full of self-denial, does not answer the question.”

Lance fisted his cold hands in his jacket pockets. “What do you know about Keith?” he said.

Her head tilted the other way. “The glacier? Not much. Barely talks to anybody. Why?”

Lance shrugged, attempting nonchalance. “Just wondering.”

Her face lit up like a fox in a chicken coop. “Oh, tell me you’re not going for that one. He’ll eat you alive, love.”

“You don’t know that.”

She snorted, the motion causing her dark curls to bounce around her face. “Maybe not. But I’ve seen it before. You think you’re the first one to go for that dark, brooding, Mr. Darcy vibe?”

Lance shifted. He _had_ noticed that vibe. “Is this you warning me off him?”

She shrugged, then stepped close and slung her arm through his. “You’re a big boy, Lance,” she said as she led them back into the library. “Just don’t be surprised if he doesn’t fall for your particular brand of charm.”

“Such confidence,” he drawled. He turned his face up to the blast of hot air coming from the vents.

“Maybe you’ll succeed where others have failed. Who knows?” They saw Keith emerge from between the stacks. Shay slapped Lance on the back and said, “Go get ‘em, tiger.” Then she disappeared into the backroom.

Keith walked towards the front desk — and Lance — with his head down, comparing the books he had in his arms to a list. He jerked to a stop when he saw Lance, who gave Keith what he hoped was a normal smile. Keith’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t say anything as he walked around Lance to the other side of the desk. He sighed as he put the books down, then straightened. “Can I help you?”

Lance’s stomach twisted at Keith’s obvious disdain for him. He forced the feeling down as he slid into his usual confident persona. “Probably. Read any good books lately?”

Keith blinked. “You want book recommendations?”

Lance propped one hip on the desk. “Yeah. And who better to ask than a librarian?”

Keith eased into the office chair behind the computer. His gaze raked over Lance. Several emotions flickered across his face: confusion, disbelief, suspicion, before settling on curiosity. He rested his chin in his hand, and Lance noticed that he was still wearing the fingerless gloves. “Don’t know if I could recommend anything you’d like.”

“Doubting your own ability?”

The corners of Keith’s eyes crinkled. “I stopped reading picture books a long time ago.”

 _He_ is _making fun of me_. Lance didn’t know if it was progress or not, but he decided to play along. He put his hand to his chest in mock affront. “Hey, I’m well-read. You can’t go to a school like this and get away with not taking a couple of English courses.”

“Mmhmm,” Keith said. The morning light brought out a hint of grey in his dark eyes. “I bet I can guess what your favourite book is.”

“What, Dr. Seuss?” Lance said before he caught the challenge in Keith’s voice.

“No, seriously. I can guess it.” Keith almost smiled. “It’s a gift.”

Lance grinned. “Try me.”

Keith’s entire demeanour shifted. Before, he was aloof but relaxed. Now, all his focus zeroed in on Lance. He leaned forward and ran narrowed eyes over him as if picking out every little detail.

Lance suppressed a shiver.

“Hunter S. Thompson,” Keith said with finality. “But not _Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas_. More like… _The Rum Diary_.” He nodded once.

Lance gaped at him. “How’d you do that?”

Keith shrugged. “Well, first, you’re a fine arts student doing photography. You told me the first day we met.” Another eye crinkle. “After you walked into the book cart.”

Lance winced. “Didn’t think you remembered that.”

For the first time, Keith looked away. “Yeah, well. It’s not every day that someone like tha- someone does that.” He spread his hands on the desk. “Anyway, you were researching things like Jean-Pierre Sudre and the Mordançage process, Jodorowsky and the Panic Movement. Revolutionary people and ideas that broke the expectations of the era. You weren’t restricting yourself to just photography, so it seemed likely that you learned about other artists of the time. Thompson and Kerouac were big influencers during the beatnik period and after, so it was natural to start with them.” Keith’s eyes were focused on some far-off point as he spoke, as if he was seeing the information spooling out in front of him. “Kerouac is an obvious choice, being a poet and everything. But Thompson was a journalist and he liked his truth starker and harsher. _Fear and Loathing_ is basically a cynical fairy tale.”

“So why _The Rum Diary_ instead?” Lance asked. His voice dropped to match Keith’s soft tone. He couldn’t look away from the concentration on Keith's face.

“ _The Rum Diary_ was the first book that Thompson wrote, but it took 40 years to get published. It’s oddly obsessed with becoming forgotten and obsolete while still retaining an element of romanticism.” Keith’s gaze slid to Lance’s. “It was created for its own sake, finished but unshared. Embracing realities while remaining hopeful. I figured that would appeal to an artist of your type.” He blinked. “Are you all right?”

Lance was aware that his eyes were far too wide and his mouth might be hanging open. “Did you just Sherlock Holmes me?”

“Er.” Keith sat back, closing off that fierce brightness. “I guess? It was inductive reasoning, which Conan Doyle did employee in his stories, even if they’re called deductions.” He realized he was rambling. “Is that okay?”

“Of course it is, are you kidding?” Lance put a hint of mischief into his smile. “Hell, I’d even let you Watson me.”

Keith’s eyes bugged out. “What?”

“Never mind.” Lance fiddled with a worn spot on his jeans. “But really, that was amazing.” Keith had reached in and pulled out all of Lance’s deepest desires and insecurities and casually tossed them back at him because of the books he asked for. What was he like when he decided to be cruel?

Keith brushed it off like he hadn’t just flayed Lance wide open. “You get to know people through their books. Learn how to read them.”

Lance squinted at him. “Did you just make a book pun? Did that just happen? Hold on, say it again, I need to record it.” He pulled out his phone and shoved it in Keith’s face.

Keith pushed it away. “Put that away, you’re being weird.”

“Me? I didn’t just deduce — sorry, _induce_ — a person’s life story because they glanced at an Ansel Adams calendar. You’re the weird one.” Lance needed to keep Keith talking. The banter had him looking much more relaxed. “What’s your favourite book?”

Keith cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t want to guess?”

Lance rubbed his chin. “ _Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance_.”

Keith actually laughed, a surprised bark of sound like he couldn’t help it. “Not even close.”

“No hints?” Lance asked. Keith shook his head. Lance took the chance to look him over as closely as Keith did him. Keith fidgeted a bit, but otherwise held still under the scrutiny. Lance thought of Shay’s comment. “ _Pride and Prejudice_.”

“It’s a good book, but it’s not my favourite.” That subtle glint in his eye told him that Keith enjoyed being this frustrating.

 _And I doubt that’s going to change_. Lance took a stab in the dark. “ _Pride and Prejudice and Zombies_.”

“Jesus, what do you think of me? No, it’s _Watership Down_.”

That was a surprise. “The one with talking rabbits?”

Keith smiled. It was the first full smile he’d shown. He was a shark with that smile. “Fascist, murderous, talking rabbits.”

“Okay, yeah, now I see it.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “And what would people pull from that to get to know you?”

“That nature wins,” Keith said. “That everyone can have an important role in a team. That even when someone appears weak or different, they can have profound insight. That tyranny can be defeated.” He grew serious as he spoke, his eyes carrying a weight that Lance couldn’t comprehend.

“That’s pretty heavy for talking rabbits.”

“It’s a pretty heavy book when looked at right.”

They stared at each other. Lance didn’t want to be the one to look away first. _This is it. This is the moment_.

Keith cleared his throat. “Anything else I can help you with?”

 _When do you get off? Wanna grab a coffee? Please keep showing me those shark smiles and that wicked sharp mind, I had no idea what I was getting into with you_. “I was wondering if the books I ordered are in yet,” Lance said instead, pulling his jacket in closer.

Keith’s shoulders dropped. “Oh, um, let me check.” A few clicks on the computer. “Not yet. Might take a few days. You’ll get an email when they’re in.”

Lance nodded. He had class to get to and stepped away from the desk. “Okay. Thanks.” A few more steps back. He shot Keith a pair of finger guns. “See how many more people you can Sherlock Holmes today.”

Keith shook his head. “Only if you try not to Watson anybody.”

Lance winked as he stepped out the doors. This guy was going to be the death of him.

&&&

Hunk practically fell into their second-storey walk-up when he came home that evening. He had gone to every farmer’s market in the city plus a few specialty shops with Coran and the rest of his small class. They were learning how to create contacts and make deals with local suppliers. Coran’s method of haggling was unique, to say the least. He was exhausted, but he had come away with a few dragon fruits that he bought on a whim. Making a dessert out of them was the obvious choice, but perhaps the sweetness could be countered with something more savoury to make an interesting entree.

There was a groan from the living room.

Hunk put his bags down in the kitchen, knowing in his gut that his evening was about to be derailed. He went out to the living room to find Lance lying face down on the couch. “Oh boy,” Hunk muttered.

“He’s absolutely oblivious,” Lance said into the cushion. “How does someone that smart not recognize flirting?”

Hunk sighed. If he had thought the bet would cause this much drama, he wouldn’t have made it in the first place. “What happened?”

Lance turned to look at him. “I told him he could Watson me.”

“Gross. What does that even mean?”

Lance put his hand over his face. “I don’t know. It just sounded like innuendo. Which he didn’t pick up on, by the way. I even waved my phone in his face and he still didn’t get the hint.”

This needed more energy than Hunk currently had. He sank into his old armchair in the corner. It was a huge burgundy thing that didn’t match any of their furniture and squeaked when it rocked, but Hunk would never get rid of it. “What are you so concerned about? It’s only Tuesday.”

“Yeah, but I thought I’d have won by now.” He sat up, eyes bright. “I thought Keith was just some dork with stupid hair and stupid gloves. Then today he was cool and smart and funny and he messed it all up.” He leaned over and put his head in his hands. “I think we had a bonding moment. Over _books_.”

Hunk looked longingly over to the kitchen. But friends came before fruit. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No, Hunk. It isn’t a bad thing. It’s the _worst_ thing. Haven’t you been listening?”

It took a few seconds to put it together — Hunk blamed his fatigue — then he said, “Wait, are you starting to like him? _Like_ like him?”

Lance glared at Hunk through his fingers. “What are you, twelve?”

“What are you, in denial?”

Lance groaned again. His head drooped lower until he was speaking to the floor. “I don’t know if I like him. Maybe. Possibly. There’s potential, I guess.”

Hunk leaned forward, dragging a shriek from the chair’s stiff springs. He’d never seen his friend in such a state before. “You’ve only talked to him three times.”

Lance paused for so long that Hunk thought he’d been shut out. It would happen occasionally, where Lance would get so wrapped up in his thoughts that he either talked a mile a minute or shut down. Hunk had learned not to take it personally.

When Lance did speak, his voice was low. “He did this thing where he used the barest amount of information about me to guess my favourite book. The things he pulled out of it…I don’t know if he even knew how personal he got.”

“Wait, he actually guessed your favourite book?”

Lance jerked up. “No! He was completely wrong. But for all the right reasons, if that makes sense.”

“It doesn’t,” Hunk said, settling back into the armchair.

“He thought it was _The Rum Diary_ , which I haven’t even read. But he knew what kinds of photography books I was reading and got all this stuff about truth and obscurity and creating things for yourself.” Lance gazed into the distance. “It was like talking to Shiro.”

Takashi Shirogane — Shiro to the students — was the resident student counsellor. Lance had been seeing him twice a month since the middle of his first year of grad school when the stress got to be too much. Talking to him helped Lance stay out of his head, and from the few times Hunk had gone to see him, he seemed to genuinely care about helping people.

“Okay, so what’s the problem?”

“What if —” Lance’s eyes darted around the room even as his body stilled. “What if this gets bigger than I expect?”

Hunk held back his first flippant answer. Lance flirting was a shining, confident creature, not caring one way or another about success or failure if someone just made a connection, however brief. This Lance, though, was filled with an uncertainty that Hunk had only seen regarding his photography. This was Lance confronted by _feelings_. “If it’s distressing you that much, we can call it off.”

“No. No. I can do this.” Lance looked like he was getting ready to storm a castle rather than build an interpersonal relationship. “I can get him to like me. I am winning that bet, I am getting that prize, and I am hanging out with a stupidly hot librarian.”

 _“Stupidly_ hot, even?” Hunk asked with a smile. He sensed Lance’s resolve and knew they were out of the panic stage.

Lance blinked, as if he didn’t realize what he said, then pointed at Hunk. “You will forget that last part.”

“Gladly.” He stood up and made for the kitchen. “I think we made a real breakthrough today. Ice cream and video games to celebrate? Might as well use that dragon fruit for something.”

“Aw, you sure know how to make a guy feel special.”

“Not as special as a stupidly hot librarian, though.” He was anticipating it, but still couldn’t dodge the cushion Lance threw at the back of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can't picture Lance and Hunk dressed as Raoul Duke and Dr. Gonzo bombing around the desert in a Cadillac Eldorado, you're wrong.
> 
> Updates on Wednesdays!


	4. Wednesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance gets some healthy advice from Shiro and maybe a revelation or two.

_“I work from awkwardness. By that I mean I don’t like to arrange things. If I stand in front of something, instead of arranging it, I arrange myself.” — Diane Arbus_

The talk with Hunk left Lance more than a little off-balance, so when he had a spare hour between classes on Wednesday, he sought out the one real adult who wouldn’t laugh at him.

“This is new for you,” Shiro said after Lance had told him the whole story. He was leaning on his chair with his chin in one hand. The posture, combined with his tee-shirt, showed off the full-sleeve tattoo of cybernetic components that were blended in with the musculature. Lance had always admired it. “I don’t think you’ve come to me with romantic issues before.”

“Yeah,” Lance said. He sat with his hands under his thighs to stop from fidgeting. “This is a bit of a weird one, even for me.”

Shiro cocked an eyebrow. “You’ll forgive me for thinking that a relationship based on a bet may not be the most stable.”

Lance slouched back in the chair. “I knew it. It’s a stupid idea. I’ll crash and burn and Keith will never talk to me again.”

Shiro’s office was in the basement near the student lounge. He had kept personal items to a minimum, but the space still felt cozy thanks to his preference for warm, dark colours. The desk was the campus standard of particle board disguised as maple, but Shiro had replaced the plastic chairs with old-fashioned leather and wood ones. A couple of Rothko reproductions hung on the wall behind him. Half the time, Lance expected candles and whale songs to add to the meditative atmosphere.

“On the other hand,” Shiro said, “this bet makes you change your behaviour towards your romantic interests, so it might end up being a good thing.”

Lance lifted his head. “I like that outcome much better. Explain.”

Shiro chuckled. “Think about how you usually show interest.”

Lance considered it, knowing Shiro wouldn’t be satisfied with an easy answer. “If I like someone, I want them to know. It’s a good feeling to be noticed, and I want others to feel that as well. And —” He shifted in his seat. “Maybe I like the control of making the first move.” He said it quietly, but Shiro only nodded.

“And how is that different to what you’re doing with Keith? You’re paying attention to him and seeking him out. You think he doesn’t feel noticed by you?”

“It’s different because I can’t tell him why I’m doing it. Everyone else knows it’s meaningless flirting, but Keith either can’t tell or he’s ignoring it. He doesn’t know what I’m after. I’m holding back my goal and it feels…wrong.” Lance wrapped his arms around himself and stared at his shoes.

Shiro hummed. “You prefer to be upfront with your attraction to people because you believe it levels the playing field. But not everyone responds to that kind of straightforwardness, do they?”

Lance barked a laugh. “You can say that again. I get turned down more often than hotel beds.”

“Do you think it might be seen as an interest only in their physical appearance?”

Lance ducked his head. “I never intend that. I mean, yeah, looks factor in, but it’s not the only thing I notice.” He sighed. “I can see why people would think I’m shallow. Anyway, most of the time —” He cut himself off as a chill ran over his skin, shocking but clarifying.

“Yes?”

 _Well, damn_. Lance’s voice was quiet. “Most of the time I hope they turn me down.”

Shiro straightened. “And why is that?”

“I guess I just want to get it over with. That’s why I ask first.”

“Rejection is easier to deal with before an emotional attachment is made,” Shiro said. “You even called it ‘meaningless.’”

Lance groaned. “Shit, Shiro, why does everything have to be so complicated?”

He only laughed. “It seems pretty simple, actually. The flirting with Keith is no longer meaningless, you’re interested in him as a person rather than as a goal, and you don’t want him to turn you down because you’ve become more emotionally invested. Sound about right?”

Lance stared up at the ceiling, gaze unfocused. “It got bigger. Damn it,” he muttered. He sat up and leaned towards Shiro, mind buzzing. “Okay, so I’m a stunted, self-loathing shitbag. Now, what do I do to not scare this one off?”

“Are you asking for therapy or dating advice?”

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

Shiro scratched his nose, a tell that Lance had learned meant he was about to get a tough question. It was a Shiro specialty. “When it boils down to it, it’s all about trust. When you announce your intentions, you’re trusting that the other person won’t hurt you. It also takes trust to be open enough to allow someone to come to you. Something which your usual approach may not allow time to develop.”

“Now I have trust issues, too?”

Shiro shrugged. “Do you?”

Lance didn’t want to look too closely at that right now, so he didn’t answer.

Shiro continued. “The biggest thing you need to ask yourself is, do you trust Keith enough to allow him that chance?”

Hope and anxiety swirled around in Lance’s stomach. “I want to.”

Shiro cocked an eyebrow. “You said you like the control of making the first move. You’re not losing that if you let Keith approach you. It’s just that now, _you_ get to decide whether or not to reject _him_. It’s a powerful place to be in.”

Lance chewed on his bottom lip. Shiro always did this to him. He got inside Lance’s head and stirred up the silt and bracken until Lance doubted he could ever make sense of it. But then everything settled and things became clear again. “The way other people talk about him makes him seem cold. Closed off.” Yesterday, Keith had been bright and animated, so different from the annoyed punk Lance met earlier. “He seems lonely. Maybe a soft touch would work better.”

Shiro leaned his forearms on his desk, affecting a serious tone. “Lance, I’m not here to tell you what to do. And I can’t tell you that by the end of it all, Keith will accept your advances. But at the very least, you will have explored a different pattern of behaviour and maybe learned something from it.”

“A life lesson?” Lance scoffed. “C’mon, Shiro, you can do better than that.” But his smile, while not strong, was there.

Shiro gave him a crooked smile in return. “So, what are you planning on doing next?”

The image of Keith talking about the meaning behind murderous rabbits, something that was obviously important to him, sprang to mind. “I want to share something with him. My photography.”

Shiro nodded. “Good.”

A smirk pulled at Lance’s mouth. “And I think I know just how to do that.”

&&&

The end of the day found Lance hanging around in the quad. He most definitely did not text Shay to see when a certain someone got out of class. Nope, he texted Shay to see when she got out of class and whether Keith was in that same class. She replied with a confirmation and then a series of rude emojis. Now, he sat on a picnic table waiting for the collection management class to be let out, slowly freezing to death.

So what if it was already ten degrees outside? The weather was in the weird middle days between seasons where you needed a parka in the morning and shorts in the afternoon. Lance’s canvas jacket didn’t match either of those conditions, but he was too stubborn to give it up. It would mean allowing winter to win, and winter was plenty annoying enough. For instance, if one more person called a hoodie a ‘bunnyhug,’ he was going to —

“Hey.”

“Gah!” Lance jumped away from the voice behind him and nearly fell off the table. He turned to glare at them and saw Keith standing there, looking a little uncertain. “Oh. Hey, Keith. Gave me a shock there.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He hopped off the table and came round to the other side. “But tell me, is being unnaturally silent a by-product of skulking around books all day?”

“No, that’s a by-product of being a vampire.” Lance caught sight of the little eye crinkles that meant Keith was joking. _Does anybody else notice them?_ Keith glanced around. “Are you waiting for someone, or…?”

Lance shoved his hands in his pockets. “Well, sort of.” He looked at Keith’s exposed fingers. They couldn’t possibly be warm in those gloves, but Keith looked pretty comfortable.

“Oh. I shouldn’t distract you then.” Keith turned as if to go.

Lance rolled his eyes and snagged the hem of Keith’s ludicrously short jacket. Seriously, how was he keeping warm? “I was waiting for you, idiot.”

Keith looked at him over his shoulder. “Me?”

“Yeah, you.”

“Why?”

“I wanna show you something.”

Keith’s eyes narrowed. “Is this a gross thing?”

“What? No, of course not —”

“Because it could be considered harassment.”

“Will you quit it? It’s not gross. Stop assuming I’m the worst human being on the planet.”

Keith had the decency to look contrite. “Sorry. What is it?”

“That thing you did with the books, that was cool. So I figured I’d show you a trick of my own.”

Keith turned so he was facing Lance full-on. “Okay.” He stared like Lance was going to pull a rabbit out of his jacket there and then.

“Well, I can’t do it here. Or now.”

“Why not?”

Lance shrugged. “The light isn’t right. And I don’t have my equipment.”

Keith sighed. “Just tell me what it is.”

“I want to photograph you.”

Keith’s eyes shot up to Lance’s. “You what?”

“I promise I’m not being weird. I’m a photography student, right? It’s for an assignment.”

Keith’s gaze ran up and down Lance, and a hint of pink dusted his cheeks even as his mouth twisted. “It’s not, like, nudes, right?”

“No, no.” Lance waved his hands in dismissal. “I already have those. No, this is for portraits. I just need your face.” He cringed. “Not, like, in a jar or something. Look, I’ll give you my professor’s email. If you’re still skeeved out, you can ask her.” Lance pulled out a pen and grabbed Keith’s wrist to push up his sleeve. Thankfully, Allura only used her first name for her email, otherwise writing it out would have taken up half of Keith’s arm.

Keith frowned at the ink, then looked Lance over again. “Why aren’t you asking one of your friends to do this?”

“Well, Hunk always wants me to do some food photography in exchange, and I keep telling him, the food in those photos isn’t real and that’s why it looks so perfect, but he refuses to believe me. And Pidge keeps trying to explain data-caching or geocaching or something that’s hidden in the pixels.” Lance blinked at Keith. “Besides, we’re friends, right?”

Keith actually rocked back. “I — suppose? We’re not enemies, at least.”

“Well, there you go. Whadda say?”

“You want to take pictures of me,” he said flatly.

“I didn’t wait out in the cold for freaking Rolo, did I?”

Keith thought for a moment more, then he took a breath and straightened. “Alright.”

Lance clapped his cold hands together, a grin spreading across his face. “Excellent! Do you want me to text you details or…?”

“You said the light wasn’t right, so you must have a time already in mind.” Keith raised an eyebrow in expectation.

 _Drat_. Lance cursed Keith’s perception even as he marvelled at it. “Over in the park about six tomorrow? By the bleachers? We can catch the sunset.”

“Sounds nice.” Keith’s eyes widened. “I mean, sounds good. I’ll be there.” He looked at his watch — _who wears a watch these days?_ — and added, “I gotta get going.”

“Cool. See you there.”

Keith’s hand twitched like he was going to give him a handshake, then he settled for an awkward little wave. He ducked his head and sped away to the parking lot.

Lance would be lying if he said he didn’t watch Keith walk away a little more closely than normal. He’d seen Keith move among the library stacks, but he couldn’t fully appreciate it like he did now. Keith moved with an unconscious grace that Lance had only seen in dancers or gymnasts, like he had trained his body so well that he no longer needed to think about it.

Allura had said to find a wild and chaotic nature, which seemed to be the opposite of Keith in every way. But Keith also had that predatory ability to be still and fix someone with a thousand-yard stare as he decided whether to disappear or rip you apart.

Lance shivered and blamed it on the cold. If nothing else, tomorrow was going to be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this may be a dumb thing, but I've started a fan Instagram account to post about writing and fandom and whatnot. Find me @the_alex_caligari!


	5. Thursday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the day of the photoshoot, Lance and Keith open up a little more.

_“I really believe there are things nobody would see if I didn’t photograph them.” — Diane Arbus_

All Thursday, Lance was on edge. With no classes to serve as a distraction, he had been killing time hanging out in Pidge’s dorm room until she banished him for, in her words, “acting like a Chihuahua on speed.” Now he was hovering in the parking lot next to the park.

He couldn’t stop checking his camera; making sure that he had the right lens, that the batteries were charged, that the bag was properly secured. It was quarter to six and his stomach was in knots. He never got this nervous around other models, even the nude ones, but then, he was never trying to impress them.

At six on the dot — an hour before sunset, when the light would be as soft as corn syrup — Lance finally walked to the baseball diamond. He saw Keith before Keith saw him, and he took a moment to observe. Keith was wearing the red motorcycle jacket and gloves like he had stepped off the set of _The Wild One._ He was sitting alone on the warped bleachers looking as still and watchful as a puma. His face was even turned up to the sun. Actually, “Keith Alone” was a pretty good title. Lance brought his camera up and snapped a few candids. He’d show them to Keith later if he decided to keep them.

“Hey,” Lance called as he stepped up to the bleachers. “Ready to start your modelling career?”

Keith laughed, a short huff of air through his nose, and shook his head. “I already have enough drama in my life without international fame. Lib Sci students are intense.”

“Really?” Lance said.

“Wander into one of my classes and say, ‘Oxford comma.’ You’ll never get out alive.”

“Thanks for the tip.” He looked around the park. The wooden bleachers had a rustic appearance, but he didn’t want Keith sitting down. He wanted something with action. Across the pathway was an old playground with metal climbing bars and real sand, but Lance dismissed that as well. Behind them was a copse of tall, tangled evergreens. “Let’s go over there. The trees will give good shadows if we need them.”

“Whatever you like,” Keith said.

It only took a few shots to realize that, despite Keith’s cool attitude, he was a terribly awkward model. His face never fully relaxed and his hands were always hovering near his sides.

Lance frowned at the camera’s preview screen. _This is what a librarian should look like._ Like he was afraid to be outside. Afraid to be looked at.

Keith caught Lance’s frown. “Sorry. I’m not very good at this. Like, at all.” He folded in on himself. Gone was the shark, the puma, the predator that had fascinated Lance for the last five days. Now he was frightened prey. Keith looked like he knew he was a disappointment.

And didn’t that just twist Lance’s heart into a new shape. Nope, this wouldn’t stand. Lance always aimed to have positive experiences with his models and to make them feel comfortable. He wasn’t going to make Keith regret putting himself out there.

Lance put on a broad smile. “No problem. You’re new at this. I can’t expect you to be Casey Legler on the first day. Here.” He stepped towards Keith and stood beside him, raising the camera. He snapped the shutter several times in quick succession.

“Selfies?” Keith asked. “That’s your solution?”

“Excuse me, it’s called gonzo photography. It’s subjective, it’s personal, and it’s unapologetic.” He thought of what Allura had said. “But it’s also meaningful, secretive, and layered. It’s hard to describe. But it’s definitely not as simplistic as selfies.” Lance realized that he had got a bit carried away and glanced at Keith.

He was looking at Lance with bright-eyed intensity. “That’s actually very poignant,” he said.

Lance shrugged, feeling embarrassed. “You got the Oxford comma, I have selfies.” In order to do something that wasn’t looking at Keith, he flipped through the last couple shots. “See? Look, it’s incredible.” Keith leaned over his shoulder.

It certainly looked like a selfie. It was at a rakishly high angle with Lance and Keith looking up at the camera. At least, Lance was looking up. He had his trademark smirk on and his head tilted like he knew all the most ridiculous secrets of the universe. But Keith was looking at him. There were tiny creases between his eyebrows as he frowned in confusion, but his mouth had the beginnings of a smile. Keith looked exasperated and indulgent and soft and sly and a dozen other things. It wasn’t “Keith Alone,” it was “Keith Unguarded.”

Lance swallowed. Even if he didn’t use it for his portfolio, he was keeping this one forever.

“I supposed it’s alright,” Keith said.

“We’ll build off this one,” Lance said. His voice was weird. He cleared his throat and positioned Keith back against the old pine trees.

With Lance interacting with him, Keith was much more relaxed. He got shots of Keith trading barbs with him, Keith rolling his eyes, Keith reaching out to grab the camera. At one point, Lance even dive-rolled out of Keith’s reach while taking a picture. He’d worked hard to make that move look as cool as it did in his head. Lance even caught Keith in the middle of laughing out loud.

The light was streaming sideways through the branches, catching the dust motes, when Lance got serious. “Golden hour, my man. This is where the real work happens.” He pulled out of Keith’s sphere and made him the sole focus again. Before Keith could get too awkward, Lance called out different attitudes. “Think about books!”

“What?”

“Think about something you’re looking forward to, like reading a new book. And don’t worry about looking at me, focus over there.” Lance pointed to a bench to his left. “Pretend you’re alone and thinking about something you get lost in. Perfect!”

It was working brilliantly, until Lance said, “Think about your last family gathering.” Keith had been smiling in the last pose, and the smile remained for a second before it caught up with the rest of his face. His eyes changed entirely and became hollow; he was a man caught broken and unawares. Lance snapped a few shots before he fully realized what happened. _Oh no._

“Forget that,” he said. “Think about the last time someone disagreed with you on the Oxford comma. Think about that idiot’s face.”

Keith came back to himself and glanced at Lance. He nodded like he knew what Lance was doing and they continued.

Soon, the light was almost gone. “Last pose, I promise,” Lance said. “I want you to think about a secret you have. A good secret, one you love keeping.”

Keith dropped his gaze and that tiny smile appeared again. He turned his head at just the right angle so that the sun caught his hair and illuminated all the hidden colours in it.

 _Fucking golden hour._ If Lance looked like he knew the ridiculous secrets of the universe, Keith looked like he knew the _best_ ones.

Lance’s heart lurched again. _Not fair, mullet head._ He cleared his throat again. “Okay, I think I got everything I need.”

“I hope at least a few of them turn out.”

“Are you kidding? You’re a natural. Once my professor sees these, she may come poach you herself.”

Keith ducked his head, but not before Lance saw the blush creeping up his neck. “Huh,” was all Keith said.

“I’ll edit and watermark the ones I want to use and send you all the raw photos, okay?” He grabbed his camera bag and waited as Keith came up to walk beside him.

“Sure. My email is in the library staff directory.”

Lance bumped his shoulder into Keith’s. “What’s got you in a funk?”

Keith shook his head like he was clearing his thoughts. “Nothing, just…nothing.” Lance waited. “I guess I didn’t expect it to be that…intense.”

Lance nodded. “Yeah, sometimes photographers push their subjects to get the reaction they want. But I don’t want to make anyone feel uncomfortable. It makes for a bad relationship. So next time, if there’s anything you don’t want to do or think about, just let me know.”

Keith looked at him. “Next time?”

“Well, yeah! These are some great shots. I want to keep you forever so no one else will be able to get as good of shots as these.”

The blush had risen to Keith’s cheeks and up his ears now. “Oh. Well, that sounds good.”

Lance bumped into him again. “We make a good team. Keith and Lance, side by side!”

Keith laughed and the heaviness lifted from him. Soon, they stood at the edge of the park. They hovered, both reluctant to leave.

“I live over that way,” Lance said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder.

Keith nodded in the other direction. “I parked over there.” He hesitated and looked Lance over. “Why do you wear so many layers?”

“What?” Where had _that_ come from? Was that Keith’s version of flirting? “What do you mean?”

Keith gestured to Lance’s jacket and the hoodie underneath. “It’s spring already. Aren’t you warm?”

“Hey, it may be the middle of April, but it is _not_ spring.” The air had chilled since the sun had set and a cool breeze picked up as if to prove Lance’s point. “I’m dressed more appropriately than you. You’re not even wearing whole gloves.”

Keith glanced at his hands as if seeing them for the first time. “They’re comfortable.”

“Yeah, well, so am I in my ‘many layers,’ as you say.”

Keith gave him a crooked smile. It seemed to be appearing more often now. “Make sure you don’t freeze on your way home.”

Lance shrugged. “Riding my bike keeps me pretty warm, actually.”

“You ride a bike? I didn’t think kids did that nowadays.”

“Pardon me?” That was too precious. “‘The kids nowadays’? What are you, like seventy? Who even talks like that?”

Keith shrugged, unconcerned with Lance’s teasing. “I’m twenty-six.”

“That explains it. You’re that much closer to thirty.” Lance gestured to himself. “Whereas I am twenty-four and therefore still cool and hip.”

“Obviously.” Keith zipped up his jacket, trying to hide his growing grin. “Keep using words like ‘hip’ and ‘therefore’ and you’ll fit right in.”

“I should remind you that I can Photoshop you to look however I want.”

“Goodbye, Lance.” Keith didn’t bother to hide his smile now. “I’ll see you around.” He turned and walked down the darkening street.

“Not if I see you first!” Lance called. He stood there and tried to figure out how Keith came off as the smooth one and Lance the awkward weirdo in that exchange. “What are you doing to me?” he muttered to the twilight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, boys, you two are flying wildly out of control.
> 
> Updates on Wednesdays!


	6. Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance behaves badly, but Allura is there to help him out.

_"A photograph is a secret about a secret. The more it tells you, the less you know.” — Diane Arbus_

It was Friday and Lance was feeling the pressure. If he had to make a sign with glitter and flashing lights that said ‘Available,’ he would. He would check out every book on human relationships and make Keith sign them out himself. He’d make Pidge infect all the library computers with a virus that put “Ask him out” in the footer of every email. Even Allura noticed his inability to focus in class.

She stopped him as the rest of the class left. “Are you all right?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m good.” He flashed her a smile, but it was clearly not up to standard as her concern only grew.

“Is this about the assignment?”

“No, just something personal. I’m feeling better about the portfolio actually. What you suggested, it worked out really well.”

She gave him a shrewd look. “Oh yes?”

Lance’s stomach fluttered as he thought of Keith’s secret smile. “Yeah. Better than I expected, actually.”

Allura gathered up her coat and bag. “I’m very glad to hear it. I have a meeting with the dean, so I must be off, but I’ll have my usual office hours tomorrow.” She hesitated at the door. “If I may be so bold, I know that you tend to bottle things up. If I can help in any way with this personal issue, let me know. Or I can give you Shiro’s contact information.”

Lance warmed at Allura’s offer. “I’ve been seeing Shiro pretty regularly, but thank you. If I think of anything, I’ll call you first.”

“Be sure you do. Good day, Lance.”

“See you. And thanks, really.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Not many people would make an offer like that.”

Her smile was soft. “Of course. If we cannot create art, we are not living, after all.” She swept out of the room.

Lance headed out across the quad to the student bike rack when a flash of red caught his eye. It was Keith leaving campus, but he didn’t head to the parking lot. He crossed the street into the park.

Lance’s skin itched. It was a very bad idea, bordering on stalking, but he was curious. Unlocking his battered blue road bike, he hopped on and rode after him.

The bike made him almost silent as he followed Keith’s path. Keith stopped in the far corner of the park where he was blocked from view by trees on three sides. He dropped his bag and dug out his phone and a pair of earbuds.

Lance stopped behind a tree and watched, feeling like a complete creep but unable to pull away. Shiro would definitely have words to say about this.

Keith set about stretching. He shed the leather jacket, then reached up as high as he could go, making the edge of his shirt ride up.

_I should go_. But then Keith bent at the waist to touch his toes and Lance stayed.

Keith went through a few more motions before dropping into a fighting stance. His movements were slow and controlled at first, then he sped up and Lance saw the sharpness and competency in them. Keith made shadow boxing look like a dance. “How is this even my life,” Lance muttered as he watched.

“Lance?”

He startled and turned around. Allura was standing behind him on the path with a satchel over her shoulder. “Hi,” he said, trying to arrange himself so it didn’t look like he was spying. “What are you doing here?”

She came up to him. A slow smile curved across her face. “I’m going home. And you are…” She peered around the tree to watch Keith. “Spying, it appears.”

“I wasn’t being a creep,” Lance said too quickly. “I swear. I just saw him go into the park and…followed him…and hid behind a tree.” He groaned and covered his face with his hands. “This looks really bad. God, please don’t tell Keith I was spying on him.”

“Keith?” Allura cocked her head. “I got an email the other day from a Keith. He was asking if you were, in fact, a creep.” She raised an eyebrow. “This is the same Keith you did the photo shoot with?”

Lance peered between his fingers. “Yes?”

“Then I look forward to seeing the results.” To Lance’s horror, she stepped out from behind the tree and waved. “Keith!”

Keith turned. He stood frozen for a moment, then straightened and pulled out his earbuds. “Hi?”

“Hello,” she said. Lance saw Keith blink at her height as she approached; Allura towered over most people. “We haven’t met in person, but you emailed me the other day about my student, Lance.”

His face was already flushed, so it was hard to tell if he was blushing as well. But Keith swallowed and said, “Oh, yeah, you’re Professor Em…Enmu…”

“Just Allura is fine. I know the rest is a bit of a mouthful.” She smiled and Keith relaxed a bit. Allura had a disarming charm about her. “I was on my way home when I met up with Lance, and luckily enough, we both came across you here.”

Lance suppressed the cringe he felt at Allura blowing his cover. No choice now. He stepped out into view and joined them. “Hey,” he said. His voice sounded much too high. “Just had to — make a call. Back there. You know.” His stomach twisted as Keith gave him an odd look.

“I hope the photo shoot experience went well,” Allura said, preventing Lance from melting into a puddle of awkward.

Keith turned back to her. “Yeah. I mean, it was a bit weird at first, but —” His eyes cut over to Lance again. “It went really well.”

Allura actually clapped her hands together, like she was making a declaration. “Fantastic. I recommended that Lance find someone who fit his style, and it seems as if he chose well. I do apologize, but we couldn’t help admiring you as you practised. Your form is excellent.”

Lance took note of that _we._ Apparently, Keith did, too, because he gave Lance a sharp look. “Uh, thank you,” he said to Allura. “Do you spar?”

“I prefer fencing in my free time, or occasionally archery.”

“Really?” Lance said. “I didn’t know that. What other secrets are you keeping?”

“If I told you, they wouldn’t be secrets, would they?” She winked at him. “Anyway, I’ll leave you two alone.” She faced Keith. “It was lovely to meet you.” She shook his hand and turned to Lance. “Keep in touch if you have any trouble picking portfolio pieces. Farewell!” She hitched up her bag and continued down the path.

Lance crossed his arms as he watched her leave. “Man, is everyone I know a secret fighting machine?”

“Oh, I bet you have some hidden skill up your sleeve.” Keith gave him a lop-sided grin, then looked away.

The words were out of Lance’s mouth before he could stop and examine them. “I can climb trees really fast.”

Keith gave him that odd look again. “What?”

He was stuck with it now. He put on his best confident smirk. “Trees. Climbing. I’m a master at them.”

Keith’s face was still scrunched up. “Why?”

“For gonzo,” he said. He swept his arms out for emphasis. “You don’t always have a perfect viewpoint so you have to make one. And if you do have a perfect element, it’s probably been constructed.” He framed a viewfinder with his fingers. “You want the raw form. All the skewed, out-of-focus, warts-and-all version of the world. And if that means climbing a tree, so be it.”

Keith now had a slow smile similar to Allura’s before she sprang her trap. “Could you climb that one?” He pointed to a mature maple tree that had thick branches sweeping out close to the ground.

“Just watch me.” Lance dropped his bag at Keith’s feet and went to the base of the tree. He took a moment to map a path, then grabbed a low branch and pulled himself up. The branches thinned out about ten feet up, but even that height gave him a broad view over the park. “Hah! Beat that,” he called down to Keith.

Who then jumped up and grabbed another branch. He hung there for a breath, then swung his legs up and over like a gymnast, until he was resting on his hips. He rolled to the side and grabbed the next branch, and on and on until he was standing next to Lance with a grin.

Lance gave him a flat look. “Fine. You’re a mild-mannered librarian by day, a badass ninja warrior by night. Do you fight crime, too?”

Keith laughed. “You think I’m mild-mannered?”

“That’s what you got from that? No, you’re right. More like ‘snarky, judgemental, secret genius book nerd by day.’”

“I’m not judgemental.”

“Oh, I remember you judging me hard the first few times we talked. You thought I was an idiot. You even thought I was trying to cheat on my essay.”

Keith frowned. “I wasn’t that bad, was I?”

Lance paused, sensing dangerous territory. “Well, maybe at first. But then I got to know you and —” Lance shrugged. “You opened up more. I mean, be honest, how many people have you climbed trees with lately?” He paired the question with a laugh, but Keith looked thoughtful.

“Huh.” He looked over the park, then, with a slightly forced smile, said, “So, great gonzo photographer, what would you take from up here?”

Lance considered it. “Well, you know gonzo as good old Hunter S. used it. Exaggeration, humour, sarcasm…”

“A good match for you,” Keith said dryly.

Lance thought about arguing, but conceded the point. “Anyway, that’s the literary stuff. The trick is taking that philosophy to the visual medium. For here, I’d probably overplay the height we’re at, maybe use a fish-eye lens. Then make the focus the playground over there.” He pointed over Keith’s shoulder. “But then make it not the focus. Does that make sense?”

Keith shook his head, looking apologetic.

“Okay, you ever see the painting _Landscape with the Fall of Icarus_ by Pieter Bruegel? Icarus is always supposed to be this big winged figure on equal footing with the sun until his hubris gets the best of him. But in _Landscape_ , he’s barely in it. He’s tucked away into a corner and the main focus of the painting appears to be all the ordinary people getting on with their day. Focus and not-focus, the meaningful tucked within the meaningless.” He leaned against the trunk of the tree and again made a frame with his fingers. “So even though ostensibly the playground is the focus of the photo, the main image would have out-of-focus branches and glimpses of the parking lot.”

Keith smiled. “Sounds really cool.”

Lance dropped his hands. He didn’t say how he would also put Keith in frame, maybe looking towards to playground, maybe not, but keeping the barest glimpse of those grey eyes and windblown hair. He’d be wearing an impassive expression that could either be protective or predatory. Lance was very glad he had left his camera — and the temptation — on the ground.

“Allura seems nice,” Keith said suddenly.

“She’s the best,” Lance said. “I came here specifically so I could work with her. What about you? What brought you here?”

Keith’s face shuttered. “Just didn’t find what I needed in Vancouver.” He avoided Lance’s gaze. “I’d better head home. Research and stuff.” He slipped down the branches until he was back on the ground.

Lance followed less smoothly, but didn’t rip any of his clothes, so he considered it a success. He stood with his hands in his pockets watching Keith gather his things. The air had turned frosty between them. “Okay,” Lance said. “I guess I’ll see you later?” He hated that upward lilt at the end, making it a question.

“Yeah, I guess.” Keith still didn’t look at him as he jerked his jacket on. He swung his bag over his shoulder and turned to leave, then paused. “I don’t work over the weekend,” he said over his shoulder. “But I’ll probably be around campus anyway.”

Lance’s eyebrows lifted. He’d take the concession where he could. “For sure. See you around.”

Keith nodded once and started down the path. Lance went back to his bike and considered how he could reach this strange contradictory person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, there's alcohol, bars, and very bad dancing.
> 
> Updates every Wednesday!


	7. Saturday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the gang tries to unwind at a bar, Lance just finds himself more tense.

_“To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love” — Jane Austen_

Lance squinted at the driver’s license. “Dude, you’re nineteen,” he said to Pidge. “You don’t need a fake ID anymore.”

Pidge looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “What are you talking about?”

“It says ‘Katie Holt.’ Who’s that?”

“That’s me, idiot.”

“Your name’s Katie?”

“You actually thought my name was _Pidge?_ ” She shook her head as she took her license back. “No wonder you’re an arts student.”

“Hey!”

“Alright, gang,” Hunk said before a fight could break out. “Everyone into the van. I’m the DD tonight, so what I say goes.”

Hunk’s van was a hulking yellow thing from the eighties. Lance kept trying to convince Hunk to get a Valkyrie riding a polar bear airbrushed on the side, if for no other reason than to cover the rust spots. Much like Hunk’s armchair, it was noisy and impractical, but he would never part with it.

Pidge called shotgun while Lance climbed in the middle row. Most of the people they were picking up were Hunk’s friends — again, who wasn’t? — but Lance wasn’t about to miss a chance to unwind on a Saturday night. He’d spent most of the day pouring over the photos of Keith and making tiny edits that wouldn’t even matter for the final product. But Lance couldn’t help himself; they needed to be perfect.

There was only one he didn’t change. The photo with him and Keith together during the first gonzo set was now stuck up on Lance’s wall among his other favourite shots.

Soon, the van was full of stressed-out grad students. It was loud and squished and Lance had no room for his legs, but it was exactly where he wanted to be. When they reached the bar, they poured out like kids at Disneyland, whooping and hollering, with Hunk yelling over it all making sure everyone had his cell number.

Inside, the crowd was thick and the music loud; just what they needed to forget their impending due dates. Lance lost sight of most of them immediately.

Hunk joined him at the bar. “How you doing?”

“Fine?”

“I saw some of the photos you were working on. They looked good.”

“Thanks.” Lance frowned. “What’s this about?”

“Can’t a friend compliment another friend’s work?”

Lance leaned against the bar. “Sure they can. But you usually don’t. In fact, you’ve gone on record as saying anything as subjective as art shouldn’t even be bothered to be measured on an objective scale.”

“It’s insane,” Hunk said, throwing his hands out. “How can you tell if something is complete if there’s no endpoint? People say food is subjective, but they’re wrong. Food is chemistry and engineering and you can definitely tell when it’s finished _because it’s cooked._ ” Hunk glanced up at Lance, who was smiling faintly. It was a rant he’d heard many times before. “Sorry,” Hunk added.

“No worries.” The bartender finally came over and Lance ordered a rum and coke for himself and Hunk’s favourite non-alcoholic atrocity, Red Bull and cranberry juice. “For real, though, what is this about?”

Hunk cocked his head. “You looked better today than you have in a while. Like, focused without being manic or listless. It was a good look on you.” Hunk smirked. “Just wondering if a certain stupidly hot librarian had anything to do with it.”

“First of all, you said you would forget that comment. Secondly —” Lance took a drink as he thought. Lately, photography had been feeling more like work than a passion. But that evening in the park was the most fun he’d had in a while. He missed that feeling. “Secondly, you might have a point there.”

Hunk’s face lit up. “That’s great. I know it started as a stupid bet, but I’m glad you’re getting something positive out of it.”

Lance didn’t want to examine the ‘something positive’ too closely — _too soon, too deep_ — so he replied, “Hey, I am still winning that bet. Mark my words.”

But Hunk wasn’t listening. He was staring over Lance’s shoulder at a table in the corner. “Is that Pidge?”

Lance turned. It was indeed Pidge. She was holding court with a number of guys and girls, who were all in various stages of awe listening to her. Some even had their mouths hanging open. As Hunk and Lance walked closer, they could hear her expounding on the physics of baseball. She was making it sound unintentionally erotic. At least, Lance hoped it was unintentional.

“I did not need to ever hear that,” Lance said as he turned away. A flash of a red jacket and a mop of dark hair caught his eye. “Uh, Hunk?”

Hunk snickered. “Go get him. I’ll look after Pidge.”

“You are literally the best and I don’t deserve you.”

“I know. But who am I to stand in the way of artists and their muse?”

Lance glanced between Hunk and Keith’s retreating back. “I will address _that_ comment later. See you in a bit.”

He heard Hunk mutter, “Unlikely,” as he followed Keith through the crowd.

He found Keith leaning against a pillar on the edge of the dance floor with a beer in his hand. He didn’t look like he was scouting for a partner. More like he was surveying the plains. Ever the relaxed predator, even here with the too-warm crowd and too-loud music. Lance shook his head. _Jesus, I’m definitely getting tipsy already._

“Hey,” Lance said.

Keith blinked at him, then gave him an easy smile. “Hey. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Lance had to lean in close to hear him over the music. Keith smelled like leather and beer and something windswept. An open highway, maybe. Lance blinked and focused on the present. “I’m here with a bunch of friends.”

Something shuttered in Keith’s eyes. “Oh. I shouldn’t keep you from them.”

 _Nope, no way, never._ “Well, they’re Hunk’s friends mostly. Cooking students are freaky when drunk.” Lance pretended to swoon and Keith laughed. “You here with anyone?”

Keith shook his head. “Not really. Some of the other Lib Sci students invited me out, but I seem to have lost them.” He looked at the dance floor. “Oh. There they are.”

Shay was on the dance floor twirling another person around, whom she suddenly dipped and let the lights catch his face.

“Hunk?!” Lance said. Keith chuckled beside him. “Oh, he’s going to be unbearable after this.”

They stood next to each other with their drinks in companionable silence. Lance kept sneaking glances at Keith and a crazy idea started to form.

Lance put his empty glass on a table and turned to Keith. “Wanna dance?”

Keith froze, beer bottle halfway to his mouth. “What?”

“Dance. You know, go on the floor, move to the beat.” He ignored the feeling of his heart ramming itself up his throat. “It’s fun.” He held out a hand.

For several heartbeats, Keith didn’t react. Then he placed his bottle on the table and his hand in Lance’s.

Lance pulled Keith to the middle of the floor. The crowd was thick and the faces anonymous. “C’mon, it’s easy.” Lance let go and gave Keith some space — as much space as could be achieved in the press of bodies. He swayed back and forth to the rhythm before breaking out the best cheesy moves he had to offer. Nothing was off-limits: the dice toss, the lawn mower, the shopping cart. He exaggerated every motion until Keith was doubled over laughing and there was a crowd of people cheering him on.

“Your turn.” Keith had one moment of realization before Lance pulled him into the circle. Lance started a sloppy foxtrot, holding Keith’s hands at shoulder height. Keith rolled his eyes, but watched Lance’s feet until he got the steps. It was simple enough — step, step, move to the side — and Lance threw him into a spin. Pulling Keith back in, he ended up with his back pressed against Lance’s chest. He looked flushed, but he was also wearing a leather jacket in a dance club, so Lance tried not to read too much into it. “Okay?” Lance said into his ear.

Keith nodded. “Yeah. This is fun.”

Lance grinned. “Good.” He spun Keith out again, who let go and fell into a fighting stance.

Keith’s grin was feral. “Your turn.”

 _How is this my life._ Lance soon picked up on what Keith wanted. It was an improvised fight, slow enough that Lance saw every hit coming and could deflect it. Or he would throw a deliberately clumsy, slow-motion punch and Keith would step around it and end up behind him. Keith was light on his feet and moved around Lance like a ballet dancer. Light taps stood in for real hits. Eventually, Keith got him in an armlock that maybe didn’t require so much body contact, but Lance wasn’t complaining.

“You surrender?” Keith asked into his ear.

 _You have no fucking idea._ “Yeah, man. I surrender.”

Keith stepped away with a wicked grin and said, “I’m getting some water. Coming?”

Lance would follow that man anywhere, but needed a moment of composure before he did something really stupid. “I’m good. I’ll be here if you need me.” Keith nodded and walked off. Lance took a much-needed deep breath.

“What the hell was that?” a voice said. Hunk and Pidge both stood behind him. Well, Hunk stood. Pidge was riding on his shoulders wearing a paper crown. Hunk was the source of the incredulous tone.

“What was what?” Lance said.

“That — that display,” Hunk said, waving his arms to indicate the dance floor. Pidge grabbed him to avoid being thrown off.

“You’re doomed,” she said. “Totally hopeless.”

Lance folded his arms. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Pidge leaned down. “You’re hot for teacher.” Her eyebrows were working overtime waggling suggestively.

“I am in complete control of the situation. And he’s a librarian,” Lance added.

“How have you not won this bet yet?” Hunk asked.

Lance sagged slightly. “Maybe he’s not into me.”

Pidge slapped her hand on her face. “Hunk, put me down please.” Her descent was less than elegant and her crown was askew when she landed. “That boy wants to spend some time in your dark room, if you know what I mean.”

Hunk groaned. “Really, Pidge? You know I live with him, right?”

Pidge winked. “Watch him. He doesn’t take his eyes off you. Trust me.”

&&&

Hunk was determined to have fun and forget about deadlines and stress. And if he had to drag Lance with him kicking and screaming, so be it. Shiro may have been able to focus Lance with words, but Hunk did it with stimulation overload. Every time Lance looked like he was getting distracted, Hunk dragged him onto the dance floor.

Or pushed him towards Keith.

Hunk watched Lance watch Keith. Pidge was right; those boys were completely twitterpated. Never wanting someone to feel left out, Hunk kept inviting Keith to join them. Pidge, having seen the fight-dance from earlier, challenged Keith to a _Karate Kid_ pose-off that involved both of them striking ridiculous stances. Afterwards, Shay pulled everyone into a square dance, which went _terribly_. Keith was friendly with everyone and only turned down people who had _that_ look in their eye. He rarely was out of eyesight of Lance and they were drawn together like magnets.

The unresolved tension of it all made Hunk wish for something stronger than Red Bull.

He was taking a break at a booth when Pidge dropped into the seat beside him. She was very tipsy, but had the good fortune to be a happy drunk. She leaned into him without hesitation.

“Wanna get out of here?” she said.

“What?”

“Leave. The bar. Ditch Lance. Say that you had to take someone home who couldn’t hold their sauce. He’ll be fine.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Maybe then he’ll ask a certain librarian for a ride.” Cue the waggling eyebrows again.

“Ugh, Pidge, stop. I thought the chefs were bad.” He pushed his glass of water towards her and she accepted it without complaint. “Do you think that’ll work?”

“Have you seen them? Bloody Disney princesses with big heart eyes.” Pidge cupped her hands around her glasses in demonstration. She then started ticking off points on her fingers. “They’ve been flirting. They’ve been dancing. Only one of them has been drinking.”

Hunk shifted to look down at her questioningly.

“You think I’m going to trust my friend to a drunk driver?” She shook her head harder than necessary, making her glasses slide down her nose. “Keith’s been downing water for the last hour and a half. I’ve been observing.” She tapped the side of her nose like a character in a bad spy movie. “If this doesn’t end with some serious make-out time, then, then —” She thought for a moment. “Then they’re both idiots who don’t deserve happiness.”

“You’re kinda vicious when you’re drunk,” Hunk said.

“Pragmatic, my dear, pragmatic.”

&&&

Lance stared at his phone in disbelief. “Those jerks.”

“What is it?” Keith said. He was leaning on the other side of the tall table drinking another water.

“So my ride home may have…left already.” He saw Keith’s frown forming and added, “One of the other people we came with was in bad shape, so they took him home. One of those now-or-never situations.”

“You need a ride?” Keith said. “I brought my own.”

Lance considered him. “You okay to drive?”

“I’ve only had two beers the whole night, and the last one was like two hours ago.”

Lance shrugged. “Yeah, okay.”

They were walking through the parking lot when Lance realized what was happening. He was getting a ride home with Keith. That was some teen rom-com shit right there. There was a sudden tingling in Lance’s fingers that had nothing to do with alcohol.

Keith’s ride turned out to be a red Jeep covered in mud. _He_ would _be someone who went off-roading._ Lance climbed in the passenger seat feeling pleasantly buzzed. He told Keith the address and Keith took off.

The pleasant feeling vanished as Lance realized that Keith was insane behind the wheel. He took turns like a rally driver, making Lance thud into the door or fall over the centre console at every corner. Lance kept checking the instrument panel to see that no, they weren’t actually speeding, but it sure felt like they were.

Keith was in complete control. Relaxed, even. Then he turned on the radio to an oldies station and started singing along. It was low and quiet, like he was doing it unconsciously.

A light ahead of them turned red and Keith showed no sign of slowing down. “Keith,” Lance said. “Keith, the light. The light. Keith!”

Keith slammed on the brakes and they came to a halt just shy of the intersection. He was still singing. “‘ _I seek to cure what’s deep inside…_ ’”

“Do you always drive like this?” Lance said. “I think I’m having a heart attack. Can we go back for my stomach?”

“Hey, any crash you can walk away from is a success.” Keith’s smile shrank under Lance’s glare. “Kidding. I’ve never crashed. And sorry, my style is a little aggressive.”

Lance tried to keep that from wandering into other bits of his brain.

They rolled to a stop outside Lance’s apartment building and sat listening to the ticking of the engine. “Hey, thanks for hanging out with me tonight,” Keith said. “I sometimes have a hard time with big groups like that. But your friends are pretty great.”

“No problem, man. I’ll let you know next time we’re going out.”

Keith smiled. “Sure.”

 _Just lean over. Do it. This is perfect. You’ve been dancing with him all night and now you’re alone in a dark car with him. Pidge was right. Do it. Do it._

“It’s been a great night,” Lance said instead. “But I’m bushed. I don’t recover as fast as I did when I was Pidge’s age.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you’re such an old man now. Make sure you take your teeth out before bed.”

“You would know all about that, you got two years on me. I’m surprised you danced as well as you did without your cane.” Keith ducked his head at that. Was he blushing? It was hard to tell in the dark. Lance could have sat there all night bantering back and forth, but he really was feeling the fatigue weigh down on him. “See you later, Keith.” He climbed out and peered into the Jeep. The tiny interior light accented Keith’s sharp cheekbones.

“See you later, Lance.”

Lance watched as Keith drove off. The night didn’t end with a make-out session or a goodnight kiss or even a promise for later, but it still felt like a win. Lance was grinning as he climbed the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keith is, of course, singing along to "Africa" by Toto.
> 
> Updates every Wednesday!


	8. Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the last day of the bet. What if Lance loses? More importantly, what if he wins?

_“I never have taken a picture I’ve intended. They’re always better or worse.” — Diane Arbus_

Lance was in an attitude of extreme concentration when Hunk woke up late the next morning. He wandered out of his room to see Lance sitting on the couch fully dressed and frowning at the opposite wall like he was trying to put a hole in it. Hunk ignored him and went to the kitchen. He stuck some bread in the toaster and held his breath. Maybe Lance’s pensiveness didn’t have anything to do with the bet. Maybe it was about school or he was trying to levitate or he had solved a 100-year-old murder…

“I need an extension,” Lance said. He hadn’t moved from the couch.

“Nope,” Hunk replied.

“Please! I can do this, I know it. But he’s a hard nut to crack.”

“Phrasing.” Hunk would not be dragged into this, he would not, _he would not_.

“He’s so aggravating!” Lance continued. “There have been so many perfect moments. Like the photo shoot or dancing at the bar or, hell, driving me home.” He peered over the edge of the couch into the kitchen. “Am I reading this wrong? He has to know what’s going on. Do you think he’s purposefully ignoring it to let me down easy or something?”

Hunk pinched the bridge of his nose and set down the jam jar. “I don’t know, man. Maybe he’s as unused to being the one in charge as you are letting him be in charge. Maybe he doesn’t trust himself.” The toaster popped and he dropped the slices onto a plate, then opened the jar. “Maybe he’s as afraid of messing this up as you are.” He pointed at Lance with his half-jammed toast. “You know, if this was really that important to you, you wouldn’t care about the bet.”

He’d meant it as a friendly jab, but Lance’s expression turned stormy. He came up next to Hunk and stole his other piece of toast. “I already don’t care about the bet. This…this got real way too fast. I wasn’t prepared for _any_ of it.”

Hunk nudged him aside to make more toast, for both himself and Lance. “Meaning?”

Lance scrubbed at his face, somehow keeping the jam off his skin. “I thought it was going to be a bit of meaningless flirting and he’d give me his number like it was nothing, and neither of us would think about it again. Just like how it happened with dozens of people before.”

Hunk gave him a flat look. “Dozens. Really.”

“Shut up.” Lance took a bite and kept talking. “But maybe there’s a chance of something more with Keith.”

Hunk stuck a second be-jammed piece of toast into Lance’s other hand, which he began eating absently. “Lance is in loooove,” Hunk teased.

Lance’s eyes bugged out and he started coughing on his food. “Shut your dirty mouth,” he said when he recovered. “We do not mention the L-word unless it is the most serious of circumstances.”

Hunk rolled his eyes. “Fine. You’re attracted to him with extreme prejudice.”

“Better.” He stuffed the last bit of toast into his mouth. “Now, I have to go. I have to get to the library for schoolwork that has nothing to do with Keith.”

“But if you see him and bat your pretty blue eyes at him, no loss, right?”

Lance looked completely defeated. “Oh, man, I’m in deep.”

&&&

Lance wasn’t lying about needing to go to the library; his research books had come in and he wanted to spend as much time away from Hunk as possible. He loved the results of Hunk’s weekly Sunday dinner, but watching him somehow use up _every_ fork in the house made Lance’s hands twitch.

He gathered up the books and headed to the back where the more isolated study tables were.

Then pulled up short when he saw who sat there.

 _It’s a sign. It must be a sign. Either the universe is blessing this endeavour or it’s torturing me because of something I did in a past life_. He steeled himself and took the plunge. “Hey, man.”

Keith looked up. His table was covered in academic journals and a notebook filled with scrawling handwriting. Arrows linked different parts together, sometimes across to the opposite page. He blinked at what Lance held in his hands. “Your books came in.”

“Sure did.” Lance dropped them on the table. “Mind if I park here for a bit? I promise not to distract you.”

Keith gestured to the opposite chair. “No problem.”

Lance settled in and tried to stay quiet, but he kept glancing up at Keith every two minutes. He finally asked, “Why are you here?” At Keith’s disbelieving look, he added, “At the library, I mean. You love it so much, you come on your days off, too?”

“Ah, no, it’s not that. I needed to give my roommate some space. Slav is doing theoretical physics and he gets a little weird about it.”

“I hear ya,” Lance said. “Hunk is cooking today and the school kitchens are closed. There’ll be stuff everywhere.” He cringed. “But never mind. I said I wouldn’t distract you, so I’ll shut up.” He mimed closing a zipper across his mouth.

Keith looked up at him through his fringe. “No, it’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“Oh. Good.” Lance looked down at the reference books in front of him and something twigged in his mind. “Hey, how did you know about Jean-Pierre Sudre? Not many people know about him, even among photographers.”

Keith shrugged. “I still don’t, really. But his name kept popping up in connection with the Mordançage process, so it wasn’t a big leap.”

Lance smiled. “Sherlock Holmes is at it again.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Want me to explain it? They say the best way to understand something is to teach it to someone else. If it’s not too disruptive,” he added.

He felt pinned under Keith’s gaze, but Keith put down his pen. “Go ahead.” He gave a lop-sided grin. “But don’t expect to get away with not hearing about the exciting world of indexing.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Lance opened his binder to his notes and started going through them, occasionally pulling from the reference books. Keith gave his full attention and even asked a few questions. By the end, Lance had come up with several good points for his paper and other angles of research. “Cool, it actually worked.”

“My turn,” Keith said with a smirk, and no matter how hard Lance tried to concentrate on indexing, he kept flashing back to when Keith said that at the bar.

 _You did that on purpose, you handsome fuck. Why aren’t you dating me already_? Lance blinked and quickly hide his reaction to that thought. The bet had been left behind long ago. He wanted to keep hanging out with Keith. He wanted him as a friend and perhaps, if the stars aligned and the gods smiled down on him, as something more. _Maybe…maybe Hunk was right_.

“Does that make sense?” Keith said.

“Huh?” Lance blinked at him, then at the notes in Keith’s hands. “Oh, yeah, indexing. It’s a mix of skill and intuition, and you have to account for how different people will look up information.” He gave Keith a thumbs up.

Keith visibly relaxed. “Good. Anything else you needed to go over?”

Lance glanced down at his textbook and picked the first concept he saw. “More surrealist stuff. How it both reflects and warps society. You ready for it?”

“Hit me.”

They continued trading information back and forth throughout the afternoon, and Lance started adding little personal stories to his explanations. “I know you’re not going to believe me, but I started reading _National Geographic_ because of the cover photos.”

Keith covered a smile with his hand. “You’re right, I don’t believe you. No teenage boy was interested in the covers.”

“But I was, honest! I mean, have you seen ‘Afghan Girl’? Changed. My. Life.”

Keith was about to respond when a crack of thunder interrupted him.

Lance looked towards the library’s glass façade and saw the sky had turned a menacing grey and purple. A heavy storm would soon break over them. “Crap, I still have a lot to do. Going to have to book it to finish before the rain.”

Too late. The first splatters of rain hit the windows and it swiftly turned into a torrent. The noise was deafening.

Shay walked past them, looking none the worse for her late night at the bar. “Just giving you the ten-minute warning that we’ll be closing soon, okay, guys?”

“Already?” Lance said.

“Sunday hours, babe,” she said.

“No problem. Thanks,” Keith said as she walked away.

“Yes problem,” Lance said as he watched the rain beat so hard into the ground that it threw mud up against the glass. “I walked here.” He clutched the library books to his chest. “Think of the books, Keith. _The books_.”

Keith pulled on his leather jacket. “You need another ride? I remember where you live.”

“Librarians, saints of the stacks. That’s what I’ve always said.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “C’mon, you weirdo.”

They had to make a mad dash to the Jeep. Once inside, Keith shook his head like a dog, spraying Lance with water. “Cool it! I’m wet enough.”

Keith smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Keith seemed more mindful of his driving today and Lance only panicked twice. Lance tried to distract himself by finding something better than the oldies station until Keith slapped his hands away from the radio.

“Don’t you know shotgun rules?” Keith said. “Driver picks the music, shotgun sits there and enjoys the privilege.”

Lance groaned. “If I have to listen to another Van Halen track, you can let me out here. Getting soaked and dying of hypothermia is better than this.”

“Oh yeah? And what do you listen to, Carly Rae Jepsen?”

“Um, excuse me, CRJ is a national treasure and a Canadian songbird.”

Keith only laughed and turned the radio up louder.

And maybe Lance could tolerate rock ballads if it meant Keith laughing more.

By the time they reached Lance’s place, the rain had settled into a steady beat instead of the pounding war drums of earlier. Everything around them had blurred into a soft navy. Lighting through rain was one of Lance’s favourite effects, and he took a moment to appreciate it.

“Hey, thanks for the ride home. Again,” Lance said he unclipped his seat belt. “This time wasn’t nearly as terrifying.”

“Hang on,” Keith said. “Just a moment.”

Lance leaned back into the seat. Keith’s hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel. “Are you okay?”

Keith took a stuttering breath. “I just wanted to say that even though this past week has been really weird, it’s also been fun. Really, weirdly fun. I enjoyed hanging out with you. A lot. More than I expected. I want more of that.” He unclipped his own seat belt. “And I think you do, too.”

Then he moved towards Lance.

Lance was too shocked to do anything. Too shocked to move when Keith put his hand on Lance’s cheek. Too shocked to react when he felt Keith’s breath on his lips. Too shocked to even close his eyes when Keith pressed his mouth to his.

His heart was exploding, his stomach caving in, his brain melting. And he still hadn’t moved.

Then Keith pulled away. He wouldn’t look at Lance, and instead toyed with the keys still in the ignition. “Shit, sorry, I was clearly reading that all wrong. I’ll go.”

 _FUCK_. “Wait, hold on,” said Lance. He grabbed Keith’s shoulders and pulled him closer. “You surprised me, that’s all,” Lance said as he brought his lips back to Keith’s.

Now that they were on the same page, Lance put all his heart and soul into the kiss. Keith responded beautifully as the hidden predator surged forth. Lance was used to people letting him lead, but now Keith was the one who cradled his head and held him in place, who nipped at his lip and soothed the hurt with his tongue.

Lance had never been so turned on in his life. Here he was, making out with a sexy librarian in the rain. _Dream come true_.

Keith finally pulled back. Lance opened his eyes to see that Keith looked as dazed as Lance felt. “I’d better go,” Keith said, apology in his eyes.

“Right, yeah,” Lance muttered. He licked his lips and Keith followed the movement. Lance smiled. “This is going to happen again, right?”

Keith also smiled, the shark smile that drew Lance in, that was captured in one of Lance’s favourite photos. “I’m counting on it.”

“Wow.” Lance’s grin was out of control. “Yeah, okay. I can’t wait.”

Lance staggered upstairs to find Hunk fit to burst. “You were watching at the window, weren’t you?” Lance asked.

“I think you won the bet,” Hunk said.

“Oh, I won so much more than that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *airhorn noises* Wooooo, yeah, finally got that kiss! It's going to be nothing but champagne and roses for the next nine chapters. Right? _Right?_


	9. Chemically Bonded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Lance and Keith have first-date jitters.

_“I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.” ― Jane Austen_

Lance fretted outside the library the next day, hidden out of sight of the large windows. _This is stupid. Just go in. He already likes you. He kissed you, for god’s sake_. Lance would take two steps towards the doors, freak out, then take two steps back. He knew why he was freaking out. Because it was real now. Keith liked him and Lance liked him back and holy crap, why couldn’t he just act like an adult.

Truth be told, Lance didn’t really know what do now. He was comfortable with flirting and wooing, maybe even a little seducing, but courting? _Dating?_ It was way out of his wheelhouse. The fact that he was thinking of it as courting showed how out of touch he was. But he really wanted this to work. He wanted to keep hanging out with Keith. He wanted to keep kissing him. Maybe more. Definitely more. Lance had another mild panic attack as the thoughts of _more_ collided with _Keith_ and created a supernova. Was he sweating? He might actually be sick in the bushes and that was not a good first hey-I-think-we’re-dating-now impression.

“Are you alright?”

Lance whipped around. It was Shay. She looked half-amused and half-worried. “Fine,” he said. “I’m fine. Just nervous.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Nervous? I’ve never seen that look on you before.”

He swallowed. “I’m waiting for Keith.”

Shay’s expression cleared, then turned devious. “Oh. _Oh._ Should I tell him you’re out here or do you want to gather a bunch of rose petals first?” She grinned. “Hunk told me you finally cracked the glacier.”

Her teasing helped ground Lance. “Hah. More like scaled Mount Everest the way he held out. I don’t think I ever had as hard a time getting to know someone as I did him.”

“But worth it?”

Lance felt a soft smile spreading across his face. “Yeah. Totally worth it.”

Shay had an identical smile. “He’s been different since he met you. Before, I think he said a total of five words to me. But now, he’s warmer. More human, I guess.” She bumped his shoulder. “You did that, Blue Eyes.”

Giddy with Shay’s words, Lance looped his arm through hers and said, “Shall we enter this temple of knowledge together, m’lady?”

She rolled her eyes, but consented to let Lance lead her through the doors of the library. She waved to Keith as he looked up from piling books on a cart. “I found your boy outside having a conniption,” she said. “Let me drop off my bag and I’ll release you into his waiting arms. Maybe do something caffeine-free today.”

Keith’s eyes were too wide and he had a few false starts before he could say, “Sure. Yeah, sounds good. Just let me finish up and I’ll — do that.” He walked away without another word, but Lance saw the way the back of his neck flushed red.

“Be gentle with him, sweetie,” Shay said to Lance.

“Me? He knows super-karate, what are you talking about?”

Shay just patted his arm and left.

Lance distracted himself by putting the books on the cart in reverse alphabetical order by author name until Keith came out. They stood awkwardly for a moment before Keith laughed. “I’m not used to this part.”

“Believe it or not, neither am I,” Lance said. “I thought that maybe we could go grab a coffee or something.” He cringed at how stilted it sounded.

“Like a date?”

Lance laughed as he scuffed his shoe against the polished concrete floor. “That’s generally what people who like each other do.”

Keith looked away and seemed to be thinking. The shark grin appeared as he said, “I think I have an idea.”

&&&

Lance flopped onto Pidge’s bed as soon as he and Hunk came into her dorm room later that night. She didn’t look up from her game console — an original first-generation PlayStation because she was weirdly old-school like that — as he started talking. “Pidge. _Pidge_. My sister from another mister.”

“Ew.”

“Keith and I went on a date.”

“Fantastic.”

“He took me on an honest-to-god picnic.”

“So it’s going well, then.”

“We actually drove out to the country like it was an Edwardian novel.”

“Sounds delightful.”

“His lips are so soft.”

“Shut up now.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Hunk said. He moved Pidge’s delicate potted cactus to arrange several pizzas on her desk. “Glad you’re happy.”

Pidge shook her head. “Hormones.”

“Hey, don’t dismiss my feelings,” Lance said without much bite.

Pidge blinked. “Dismiss? Are you kidding? I think it’s amazing. Serotonin, dopamine, and oxytocin combining in someone’s brain to make them bond to another human, sometimes for life. It’s measurable, it’s observable, and it’s _real.”_ She sniffed in disdain. “I find that more beautiful than a fanciful notion about fate or soulmates.”

Hunk and Lance shared a look. “You have surprising depths,” Hunk said to her.

Pidge smiled. “One day you’ll learn. Now, give me a slice of that meat lovers.”

It was a semi-tradition they had; whenever one of them got too stressed or frustrated, they had a movie night with the most stressed person picking the film and the others providing sustenance. Tonight, Pidge was hosting and the movie was one of her favourite 80s action flicks.

It was one they had watched a dozen times already, and so Lance’s thoughts drifted back to the afternoon. Keith had first stopped at a gas station to “pick up supplies” while Lance waited in the Jeep, concerned that he wasn’t more concerned. _This is the start of a horror movie_. Then Keith drove them out to an empty field.

But instead of murdering Lance, Keith spread out an old woollen blanket on the grass. His gas station supplies turned out to be cans of pop and bags of chips. Lance couldn’t think of what to say.

Keith fiddled with the edge of the blanket. “I don’t know if this is too much or too little,” he said, gesturing to the junk food. “We can go back into town if you want, but I thought this would be nice. Quiet.”

Lance sat beside him. “It’s brilliant.”

Keith ducked his head, but Lance caught his small smile. It was the same smile he had during the photo shoot when Lance told Keith to think of a good secret. _Holy hell_.

The spring sun was warm as they stretched out under it. Keith’s eyes were closed and Lance couldn’t stop looking at him.

“You’re being weird again,” Keith said without opening his eyes.

“Are you actually a ninja? You have to tell me if you are. I need to know in case you disappear and there’s a suspiciously handsome crime fighter on the news.”

Keith cracked one eye open. “Is this you trying to flirt with me?”

“Honey, there is no ‘trying.’ I _am_ flirting with you. Is it working?”

“If it was working, you wouldn’t have to ask.”

Lance clutched at his chest. “You’re breaking my heart.”

“We’re already on a date. I think the pick-up lines are superfluous at this point.”

“Okay, but I spent a week flirting with you and you didn’t notice.”

Keith’s brow furrowed. “That’s not true.”

“It most certainly is,” Lance said. “You got my A-game.”

“Not that. I meant that it’s not true that I didn’t notice.” Keith stared up at the clouds. “I couldn’t understand why you didn’t just _make a move_.” He gave Lance a sideways glance. “What were you waiting for, a billboard?”

Lance’s stomach tensed. “I just.” He decided a partial truth was better than an outright lie. “I needed to make sure you were sure. I didn’t want to mess up and scare you off.”

Keith laughed softly as he shook his head. “I thought you were crazy.”

Lance lay down beside him. “Something like that.”

&&&

The buzzing of his cell phone jolted Lance back to the present. He dug it out of his pocket and snuck a glance at the screen. It was a text from Keith. _“I had fun today. See you soon?”_

“Is that a text from your _boyfriend?”_ Pidge sing-songed.

“Keith isn’t Lance’s boyfriend,” Hunk said. “They’re just chemically bonded, right?” He definitely had picked up some eyebrow technique from Pidge.

Lance’s face heated up under their twin smirks. “Both of you need to mind your own business.”

Pidge _pshawed_ and turned back to the television. “Does that mean you actually have his number?” Hunk asked.

“Yeah. He snuck it in when I wasn’t looking. Stupid ninja,” Lance said with a smile.

Pidge muttered something about Lance’s lack of passwords.

“You going to reply?” Hunk asked.

“Of course I’m going to reply, just —” He flapped his hands at Hunk. “Stop hovering.”

Hunk wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. “Pidge, our baby is growing up.”

“Shut up,” Lance muttered. _“Me too,”_ he typed. _“Now I have a much better reason to go the library than studying.”_

Keith replied shortly after. _“Better than a study buddy?”_

Lance started typing, _“More like a_ _fuc”_ before he realized what he was saying and deleted it. He didn’t need to act like that anymore. _Stop trying so hard._ He started again. _“Study buddies never take me out on picnics or kiss me stupid. You working tomorrow?”_

_“Yup.”_

_“See you there.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pidge and Hunk are so happy to see their emotionally immature baby grow up just a little bit. Not a lot, but a bit.
> 
> Updates on Wednesdays!


	10. Small Gestures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small moment shared between people who don't remember having this before.

_“You know how you let yourself think that everything will be all right if you can only get to a certain place or do a certain thing. But when you get there you find it’s not that simple.” — Richard Adams_

Lance was between classes on Wednesday when he drifted into the student lounge.

He smiled stiffly at the tall blonde girl behind the cafe counter. “Hey, Nyma.”

“Hi there.” Her answering smile was saccharine. “Whatcha up to these days?”

“Not much,” he said, shrugging. “You and Rolo still being the world’s grossest power couple?”

She giggled. “You know it. The usual?”

“Please.” Nyma got started on a concoction she called The White Death because of the amount of sugar and vanilla in it. It was Lance’s favourite and Nyma was the only one who made it correctly.

Lance and Nyma had a complicated relationship. They were both in the photography program, although her mentor was the more cutthroat Professor Haggar. From what Lance saw, they suited each other. Nyma’s subjects always featured some form of decay and ruthlessness. It was surprising given her bubbly attitude, but she had a soul of steel. Something Lance found out not only when she shut him down hard when he asked her out, but when she then stole his camera’s batteries right before the class all went out to a remote shoot. He had been left with only his phone to use and fumed for weeks.

He wanted to be mad at her, and he was for a time, but he could kind of understand her position. If she wanted to be taken seriously as an artist, she needed to be competitive. Nyma wasn’t suited to doing wedding shots and family portraits to get by. Actually, Lance would be surprised if she didn’t end up being a war photographer on the front lines somewhere.

She plunked the paper cup down in front of him. “You keep drinking these, you’re going to lose a foot.”

He grinned. “Might finally slow me down enough for you to catch up.”

She flipped him off, but laughed as she did it.

Breathing in the warm steam, he turned to leave, catching sight of a table in the corner as he did so. Keith was sitting there with a plate of poutine watching something on his phone with his earbuds in. He hadn’t seen Lance yet.

Lance hesitated. He didn’t want to be seen as clingy, but he also didn’t want to be neglectful. He dawdled by the counter, caught by indecision.

Keith must have felt the weight of his gaze. His eyes snapped up to meet Lance’s, and he jerked his chin at the empty seat beside him. Lance dropped into the chair. They hadn’t discussed the limits of PDA, so he resisted his impulse to lean over and kiss him.

Keith also looked like he wanted to do something, but glanced around at the crowded lounge and bumped his shoulder against Lance instead. “Hey, man.” He sniffed the air, then frowned at Lance’s cup. “What is that?”

“It’s liquid heaven,” Lance said. “You wanna try?” When Keith scrunched up his nose, Lance laughed. “Nah, you’re probably one of those ‘I’ll have an espresso as dark as my soul’ types.”

Keith ducked his head. “It stays purer to the flavour,” he mumbled.

Lance bumped him back. He didn’t miss the way Keith leaned into him to maintain contact. “Don’t worry about it. Nyma would have my head if she had to make two of these all the time.”

Keith nodded, then glanced at his watch. “Are you done for the day or…?”

“I have another class in an hour, then a meeting with Allura. You?”

“I had to switch with someone to cover their evening shift.” He looked apologetic. “I’ll be busy until closing, so this is my dinner.” He pushed the paper plate closer to Lance.

Lance covered the sting of disappointment by taking a fry. “Well, we’ll have to make the best of it, won’t we?”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Hang on.” He went back up to the counter and bought an item that had Nyma scoffing about cheap dates. Lance ignored her and presented the small box to Keith.

“Smarties?” he asked.

“You got dinner, I got dessert. We’ll split them and fight over who gets the blue ones.” He ripped open the box and poured the small chocolates onto the table. He began sorting them by colour.

“Why blue?” Keith asked as he helped sort them.

“Because they taste the best.”

Keith paused. “You know they don’t have different flavours, right?”

“I know that in here.” Lance pointed to his temple, then to his heart. “But in _here_ , it’s different.”

Keith gave him a look that was — there was no other word for it — fond. “You can have all the blue ones if you like. I prefer red.”

“Of course, you would, you heathen.”

They chatted about schoolwork and roommates, and Keith told him about his program advisor, a weirdly arrogant professor called David Lotor.

“I mean, yeah, he knows his stuff and is actually pretty innovative when it comes to information organization, but he acts like he’s the only one who could have thought of it.”

“Something about this town brings all the weirdos here.” Lance crunched down on the last candy as he considered something that had been on his mind the last few days. “Hey, this might be a touchy subject, so tell me to beat it if you need to, but I noticed something.” Lance tapped a discordant rhythm out on the table. “A couple of times when we’ve hung out, I mentioned your family and you would react, well, like that.” He gestured to Keith’s tense shoulders and clenched hands. “What happened?”

Keith let out a slow breath. “It’s nothing, really. Just lame family drama.”

“You said you came from Vancouver?”

Keith looked at Lance as he weighed his options. Finally, he nodded. “I came out here to…get away for a while. That was six years ago.”

Lance gave him a beat of silence. “It was that bad?”

Keith shrugged. “Depends who you ask. To my folks, it was the worst.” He gave Lance a sardonic smile that died a swift death. “Mom’s a pediatrician and a first-generation Korean-Canadian, and my dad is Métis. He’s in banking, big international stuff.” Keith rolled his eyes and pointed to himself. “Real mixed bag of ethnicities here. As you can imagine, there was a lot of pressure for me to be successful as well. I had a full scholarship for my undergrad in some pre-law program. It wasn’t what I wanted, but I didn’t know exactly _what_ I wanted. I was only there a year.”

“You dropped out.”

He nodded. “I bummed around for a while. Couch-surfed with friends. Even wandered down to the Badlands in Alberta and hung out in the desert for a summer. I eventually figured out what I wanted, but my parents never understood why I threw it all away in the first place. I had to start over from scratch and with my own money.”

“They didn’t support you?”

He tipped his head. “They supported the idea of me getting an education. But they didn’t want to support something I might quit after I got tired of it.”

Lance’s skin prickled from second-hand indignation. “But you’re getting a master’s degree. Doesn’t that show dedication?”

Keith’s smile was bittersweet. “People fall into a rut pretty easily.”

Lance took a chance and placed his hand over Keith’s. Keith glanced down but didn’t move. “I think it’s pretty cool,” Lance said. “I mean, libraries are more than just books, right? I know my hometown library was always doing stuff for the community. Kids’ reading programs, adult education, outreach. You’ll help way more people there than being a stuffy lawyer. I don’t think there’s anything frivolous about your decision.”

Keith was staring at him. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

“Oh.” Lance shifted in his seat and his hand felt clammy against Keith’s. “No problem. I’m always hearing that kind of stuff about my degree, so I’ve learned how to brush it off.”

“I don’t think what you’re doing is frivolous, either.”

Lance met his serious stare. “Careful, I might have to kiss you in public.”

Keith made a noise between a laugh and a cough. “I wouldn’t stop you.”

Lance didn’t bother fighting the grin spreading across his face. “Well, alright then.”

“You preying on another poor pitiful soul?”

Lance jerked back to see Nyma standing behind Keith. “What do you want?”

Nyma smiled. “Just wanted to say goodbye to my favourite rival,” she said, giving a little wave. “And to make sure you weren’t about to break this one’s heart as well.” She put a hand on Keith’s shoulder, who frowned at the contact.

“Why don’t you find Rolo and scare some freshmen somewhere else?” Lance said.

She waggled her finger at him. “Don’t be hypocritical. It’s not a good look on you.” She leaned over Keith and stage-whispered in his ear. “Watch out for this one. He has a roving eye for literally anything that moves.” She stepped back. “Take care now,” she called as she stepped out the door.

“Freaking cobra,” Lance muttered.

“What was that about?” Keith said. His voice was tight, and he pulled his hands back.

Lance’s skin pricked again in warning. “Don’t listen to her. She just likes stirring up trouble.”

“But what did she mean?”

Lance twisted his hands around the empty chocolate box. He needed to fill them in the absence of Keith’s hand. “I don’t cheat and I don’t sleep around. Not like how Nyma implied, anyway. But I may have gained a reputation that I didn’t mean to create.”

Keith stared at him, but his gaze had none of the intensity of earlier. He was again the shark, but with cool regard instead of warm mischief. “Anything I need to know?”

Lance shrugged and looked at the table. “A couple casual flings here and there. Nothing serious, nothing long-term. I haven’t done anything like this —” He gestured between them. “— in a long time.”

“And how do you define ‘this’?”

Lance risked a glance upward. Keith was sitting with his arms crossed, but he didn’t seem defensive, only patient. He reminded Lance so strongly of Shiro that he wondered if they had ever met. “Dating,” he said. “Something that lasts more than a week. I want to keep seeing you. I think you’re smart and interesting and funny in a weird way and I couldn’t stop looking at you when I first saw you —”

Keith shut him up by pulling him into a kiss. “It’s okay,” he said when he released Lance. “I don’t really care what you were like in the past. I just need to know that we both want the same things in the present. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Lance breathed, looking into Keith’s grey eyes. “You can trust me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune in next week when things not only kick into high gear, they strip the gears and tear the engine out.


	11. Blindsided

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance gets caught up in thinking about the future.

_"There is no fool like a careless gambler who starts taking victory for granted.” — Hunter S. Thompson_

For having so little experience with being in a relationship, Lance found it frighteningly easy to fall into. He and Keith went on goofy dates and texted each other at all hours. He learned that Keith had absolutely no patience for anything sci-fi — saying that none of it made sense, and Lance replying that his favourite book had _talking rabbits_ — but was a sucker for historical romance. He wasn’t as fastidious as Lance, but he wasn’t as chaotic as Hunk. He had a mole behind his right ear that was only visible when Lance swept Keith’s hair back.

Keith even joined the group for a few study sessions. Lance watched Keith as he chatted with Hunk and Pidge, waiting for any of the social awkwardness that he assumed was there. But Lance worried over nothing. Keith knew Pidge from some sort of cybersecurity symposium they both went to last summer, and then he had a completely earnest conversation with Hunk about rebuilding engines that would have bored Lance to tears. Turned out that Keith just needed to drop his guard a little.

That Friday, they were kissing in Keith’s car outside Lance’s building again. They already were pushing the limits of public decency with Keith’s hand up Lance’s shirt and Lance nearly crawling into Keith’s lap. “You should come upstairs,” Lance muttered. Keith pulled back. “I mean, if you want. But Hunk is out for the night and we’re both adults.” He licked his lips, watching Keith track the movement. “And I have protection if we need it.”

Keith flushed before diving back into Lance’s neck. _"God, yes,"_ he breathed.

Stairs were so much harder to negotiate when trying to touch as much skin as possible. Lance pushed Keith against the apartment door while he found the right key. “Do you know how long I wanted this?” Keith said as he bit Lance's ear.

Lance shivered. “Couldn’t be that long. We’ve known each other for barely two weeks.”

“I wanted to kiss you the day we did the photo shoot.”

Lance laughed as he finally got the door open and they fell in. “Gonzo is that much of a turn-on, huh?”

“But I wanted to do _this_ ,” Keith continued as he grabbed Lance’s hips and pulled him closer, “since the bar.” He pushed Lance against the wall and grinded into him. “All that fucking dancing. I thought I was going to die.”

There was a real possibility that Lance might die _now_. “You and me both, buddy.”

Keith pulled back with a pained expression. “Please don’t call me buddy right now. Not when I’ve had my tongue in your mouth.”

 _Hello, dirty talk_. “Alright. How about ‘hot stuff’ or ‘gorgeous’ or —” Lance was cut off as Keith palmed him through his jeans. “Or ‘holy crap, don’t stop.’”

They stumbled through the apartment to Lance’s room, Keith pulling Lance’s shirt off as they went. Lance had enough presence of mind not to leave clothes out where an innocent bystander could find them.

“And of course, instead of just jumping my bones like a normal person,” Keith said as he pulled at Lance’s jeans. _How was he still talking?_ “You proved to be a terrible tease wrapped up in an incorrigible flirt.”

“Hey, you gave as good as you got.” Lance pushed Keith’s jeans over his hips as Keith peeled off his own shirt. “‘My style is a little aggressive.’ Jeez, were you even trying to be subtle?”

“Not really,” Keith said.

Lance was about to retort when Keith interrupted him with a kiss. He pushed Lance onto the bed and straddled him. Lance ran his hands over bare skin. _Holy shit, this is real_. Keith gave him a wicked smile, then leaned down and sunk his teeth into Lance’s neck. _So, so real_.

Lance didn’t think too much after that.

&&&

Lance woke up late the next morning. He nuzzled into something soft that tickled his nose. Blinking awake, he saw it was dark hair. Keith’s hair. His heart picked up speed as he thought about last night. It was like his head was filled with champagne bubbles. There had been no hesitation, no fear, no second-guessing. He nuzzled deeper into the back of Keith’s neck, who murmured in protest.

“Too early,” he said into the pillow.

“You don’t even know what time it is,” Lance said. He caught sight of a lurid bite mark on Keith’s shoulder, purple against his fair skin. Lance circled it with his finger, admiring how his darker skin tone looked against it.

“I know I don’t want to be awake, therefore, too early.”

How did they fit together so perfectly? Lance wrapped himself tighter around Keith, who made a happy noise and settled in again. “What about breakfast?” Lance said, although he was tempted to stay here as long as possible. “I bet I can get Hunk to make us french toast. He’s usually up by now.”

Keith rolled over enough to crack one eye open at him. “Don’t make Hunk do your dirty work. You’ll make breakfast like a good boyfriend.”

The word sank into Lance’s chest and set off fireworks. _Boyfriend_. He didn’t think he’d ever get to this point with anyone. Certainly not with Keith. This was good. This was right.

“Fine,” he said. He kissed Keith on the cheek and rolled away. “But just for that, I’m not going to be naked under my apron like I planned.”

Keith sat up as Lance pulled on his boxers and a pair of sweatpants. “Wait, that was a possibility?”

Lance tossed him an air kiss as he left his room, closing the door behind him. He stretched languidly, feeling wonderfully sore. A few tight places on his neck and shoulders told him that he had his fair share of hickeys, too.

Something smelled fantastic in the kitchen. Hunk was there finishing up whatever he was making. At the sight of Lance’s bare torso, he rolled his eyes. “You could at least wear a shirt,” he said as he stacked dirty dishes in the sink. “I take it you had a good time?”

Lance draped himself over the counter. “The best.” He lowered his voice. “The internet is right about librarians.”

“Gah, no, stop right there.” Hunk pointed a spatula at him. “We agreed on no judgement in this house, but if you continue, I will be forced to declare you a disgusting pervert.”

Lance smiled and changed the subject. “How was your night? I didn’t hear you come home.” Hunk avoided his gaze as he stacked still more dishes in the sink. Lance leaned forward, eyes wide. “ _Hunk?_ Did you stay over with someone?”

“Not…quite. Not like that. And just for that implication, I’m revoking the no-judgement clause and labelling you a disgusting pervert.”

Lance slid around the corner of the counter. “So, what did happen?”

“Things got a little heated at dinner. Rolo and his ‘gastronomic deconstructionism.’ God, that guy has to nitpick everything. Yeah, man, maybe you can make an inside-out grilled cheese, but why would you _want_ to?”

“Hunk, focus.”

“Right. Well, Coran loves to encourage student discussion, so then he gets involved and Rolo keeps ordering wine and maybe I had more than I’d planned. And it was late so I didn’t want to call you and wake you.” A sly smile appeared. “Although who knows how much sleep you got.”

Lance returned the grin, utterly unashamed. “You couldn’t drive home. And then?”

A deep blush started working its way up Hunk’s neck. “And then I remembered that Shay lived nearby and she said I could crash there.”

Lance snickered. “How convenient.”

“Shut up. Nothing happened. I slept on the couch and I picked up my van this morning after getting her a thank-you gift. There’s an artisan shop nearby and I — I may have panicked.”

“What did you get her?”

Hunk covered his face. “A plate of international cheeses. She’s lactose intolerant, Lance! What was I thinking?”

Lance started laughing so hard he had to hold on to the counter. “You are a golden treasure.”

“At least it meant I could finally pick up some of these.” He reached behind him and tossed something to Lance. It was a fist-sized red and green fruit.

“What is it?”

“A mango! That shop finally got some decent ones in. They usually come in overripe already. It’s why your prize is late, but better late than never.”

“Prize?”

“The mango cupcakes.” Hunk pointed behind him to a cooling tray. There sat two dozen cupcakes with orange icing. “For winning the bet. I mean, technically you didn’t get his number by the deadline, but I think that kiss last week counts.”

“Oh. Right.” Lance had forgotten all about his prize. He put the mango on the counter. “Yeah, I guess I did win him over pretty thoroughly, eh?”

“What bet?”

They both whipped their heads towards Lance’s room. Keith stood in the doorway looking rumpled but fully dressed. He was staring at Lance. “What bet?” he asked again.

Lance’s mouth dried up. He swallowed a few times before he could respond. “Keith.”

“No, wait, I heard plenty. I think I can piece it together myself.” Keith’s voice was tight and his hands were shaking slightly. “You went out with me for a bet?”

“No, Keith, it’s not like that.”

“I’m going to go,” Hunk said. He grabbed his keys and fled the apartment.

“Was it out of pity?” Keith asked. “See if you can date the weird guy?” He scowled at the cooling tray behind Lance. “For _cupcakes_?”

“Keith, no, it isn’t like that at all —”

“Then explain what he meant when he said you won.”

Lance closed his eyes to gather his thoughts. And to avoid the look on Keith’s face. “Okay,” he said, deciding brutal honesty was best. Rip the bandage off. “You’re right. It started out as a stupid bet. Hunk said that I couldn’t convince you to give me your number or show romantic interest in me or whatever within a week. To win, I had to wait until you made the first move.”

Keith started pacing like a caged tiger. He eyes darted back and forth over nothing. “This was a game? A joke? Did you ever consider that maybe it was a _person_ with _emotions_ that you were dealing with?” He gestured back at the bedroom. “And _that_? What was that worth, a soufflé?”

Lance’s stomach twisted. “God, no, _Keith_. How can you think that?”

“Because this entire relationship is built on false pretences!” Keith got right in Lance’s face, crowding him against the counter. “If it wasn’t for that bet, you wouldn’t have looked twice at me. You wouldn’t have tried so hard to be nice and include me. You wouldn’t have made me feel —” Something horribly like a sob cut off Keith’s voice before he choked it back down.

Lance wanted nothing more than to reach out and draw Keith into his arms. He wanted to deny everything. But the horrible thing was that Keith was right. After Keith’s initial brush-off of Lance’s attention, Lance wasn’t sure if he would have kept trying if not for the bet. He stayed silent.

Keith squeezed his hands into fists and for a second Lance thought he was going to hit him. But Keith stepped back and everything about him turned cold. “You lied to me, Lance. And you used me. Nyma was right about you. _I_ was right about you. I knew this wouldn’t —” He cut himself off again and glared at Lance. “You are nothing but a selfish fake who’s only concerned with his own self-interest. You know what waits for people like that? Obscurity and loneliness.” He grabbed his jacket and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

The silence rang in Lance’s ears. Fifteen minutes ago, he had been in bed with someone who made him feel safe and secure and able to think of the future without any anxiety at all.

He sank to the floor and buried his face in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hides and waits for the storm to blow over*


	12. Shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People deal with the fallout.

_“Life isn’t fair. It’s just fairer than death, that’s all.” — William Goldman_

Pidge picked away at her keyboard. Looking for errors in security code wasn’t her idea of a Saturday well-spent, especially when it was someone else’s code. _Stupid group project._ She had flagged a Mack-truck-sized hole when there was a violent knocking at her door. “Come in,” she called as she closed her laptop.

The door flew open with such force that it bounced off the wall as Hunk exploded into her room. Pidge figured she could kiss her damage deposit goodbye.

“Pidge, we fucked up!” Hunk said. He held on to the door frame like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

“What do you mean, ‘we’?” She stood up, considering whether she could catch him if he fainted.

“Keith found out about the bet.”

“What! How?”

“Crap, crap, crap.” He closed the door and started pacing around the tiny room. Pidge discreetly moved her favourite green skateboard out of the way. “It’s all my fault. I didn’t know he was there! I just blurted it out and they were definitely arguing when I left.”

“Hunk, slow down.” Pidge grabbed him and directed him to sit on her bed. “Breathe. What happened?”

He took a moment to collect himself. “Keith stayed over last night.”

Pidge’s eyebrows climbed towards her hair. “Holy crap. Good job, Lance.”

Hunk shook his head. “No, no, very bad job. I made Lance’s mango cupcakes this morning and said that they were his prize for winning the bet and Keith heard me. He figured it out and now he thinks Lance faked it all to win.”

Pidge sat in her desk chair across from Hunk. “Yeah, that’s pretty dire.”

“I knew I would mess this up,” he said. “And I was starting to like Keith, too. He was good for Lance. And now I’ve emotionally crippled two of my friends!”

Pidge handed him the tissue box. “Okay, maybe the bet was a bad idea.” Hunk looked so stricken that she hastened to add, “But it can be fixed! You said yourself that Lance stopped caring about the bet, like, five seconds after he met Keith. We just have to convince Keith of that.”

Hunk nodded, staring at the middle distance. Taking a deep breath, he drew himself up. Pidge saw the steely determination in his expression. Hunk truly was a flake at the best of times, but never failed when a friend needed help. “Okay, yeah. This is my fault, I can help fix it.” He glanced at Pidge’s laptop and the small mountain of paper and textbooks beside it. “I shouldn’t be bothering you with this.”

“Once again, you are wrong. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s Lance’s for not being upfront. And, much to my dismay, I actually like those two idiots as well.” She shrugged. “And if they don’t get this sorted, we’ll all be subjected to the fallout whether we want to be or not.” She opened a notebook to a clean page. “Plus, I need a mental break from my unimaginative classmates. Strategizing is good for the soul. How were they when you left?”

Hunk leaned forward to watch her scribble notes. “They were both pretty upset. Lance usually gets nervous and starts babbling, but Keith just seemed cold.” He looked up at her. “You don’t think he would…hurt Lance, do you?”

Pidge shook her head. “Keith’s not the type to get physically violent.”

“But all that boxing he does —”

“Trust me, that’s not why he does it.” She tapped the notebook with her pen. “He doesn’t want to fight with people.” She was looking out the window, but still felt Hunk’s gaze on her. He was way too perceptive for his own good.

“Pidge?”

Instead of answering the unspoken question, she shook it off and returned to making notes. “I think you played matchmaker a little too well, buddy. Those two are way too similar.”

The concern didn’t leave his eyes, but Hunk allowed the change of subject. “Keith and Lance? _Our_ Keith and Lance? Mr. Poker Face and Mr. Has To Express Every Single Thought?”

A laugh escaped her. “I mean that neither of them deals with negative emotions very well. Think about it. What does Lance do when he gets stressed?”

“He gets a bit manic,” Hunk said. “Like he has to prove something and works twice as hard to make up for something he thinks as a weakness.”

“He redirects the energy. He doesn’t deal with the actual source.”

Hunk got quiet and thought for a moment. “Lance said that Shiro told him something similar. Said he was trying to work on it.”

“I think the boxing is the same thing for Keith. It’s a substitute for solving the problem, not an actual solution.” Pidge rubbed a hand across her eyes. “Until it doesn’t work.”

“You seem familiar with this.” Hunk’s voice was flat, not questioning or accusing.

Pidge wrapped her arms around herself. “It used to happen with Matt sometimes. And…with me. It got really bad for a while.”

Hunk’s eyes were huge. “How bad?”

Pidge laughed awkwardly. “Like screaming matches between Matt and me over the stupidest things. Him leaving his textbooks in my room or using my laptop. I’d flip out about privacy and personal invasion, but what it really boiled down to was me always trying to live up to him. Or my version of him.” She shrugged. “The perfect firstborn versus the awkward accident.”

Hunk reached out to her. “Pidge.”

She waved him off and snagged one of the tissues. She gave a perfunctory blow of her nose. “We’re better now. Both of us. But we had to learn to work off the frustration first, then actually talk to each other about what was bothering us. Hence, the jujitsu for me.”

“What does Matt do?”

Pidge grinned. “Bojutsu. He wields a bo staff like nobody’s business.”

“Your family is absolutely terrifying, you know that, right?”

She smiled, appreciating the levity. “And don’t you forget it.”

Hunk stared at the ceiling. “What do we do now?”

“We give them a day or so to cool down, then we get them to talk.”

They discussed the best methods to get their friends to communicate and how each might react. Hunk had gone quiet for a bit until Pidge asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Should we be interfering like this?” he said. “Shouldn’t we let nature take its course? What if Keith doesn’t understand Lance’s motivation?”

Pidge scrubbed at her face. “Even if they don’t get back together, they shouldn’t make that decision under wrong assumptions. Keith deserves to know the full story.”

Hunk sighed. “We have our work cut out for us.”

&&&

Lance didn’t know how long he sat on the kitchen floor. Incongruously, the memory that floated to the top of his mind was of being a lifeguard during high school. All the pool staff had to take a first aid course over two days. Most of the teenagers were giggling over giving mouth-to-mouth, but Lance kept wondering what he would do in an actual emergency. He worried he might panic or freeze and then some kid would be dead and it would be all his fault. He studied and practised and memorized all the different tricks. Even after he stopped working at the pool, he kept his certificate up to date. So, he knew why his skin was cold and his heart was racing and his breathing was tight. _Shock. I’m in shock._

His boyfriend of six days had walked out on him, and he was in shock.

A pool of anger seeped through his stomach. Pathetic. Who acted like this? This wasn’t normal. It was just what Pidge had said about hormones taking over his brain. This wasn’t him. This wasn’t real.

Lance’s breath caught in his chest. The thought echoed in his head. _This wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, itwasntrealitwasntrealitwasntreal —_

Someone was shaking him. “C’mon, buddy, come back to me. Just breathe, that’s it.”

Lance squinted at the figure kneeling in front of him. Why was the world so blurry? He blinked and felt tears fall. “Hunk?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” Hunk looked into each of Lance’s eyes, checking that they weren’t glazed over.

“What —” Lance coughed and his throat burned. “What happened?”

Hunk brows drew together. “You were hyperventilating. I don’t think you knew you were doing it.”

“I was in shock,” Lance said numbly.

“I believe it. Are you okay?” Hunk paused. “Physically, I mean?”

“I think so.” His chest hurt, and his hands were stiff from clenching them into fists. He grabbed a tea towel off the oven and scrubbed at his face to remove the tears. Looking down at himself, he caught sight of a bite mark on his shoulder. Nausea ripped through him. “I need a shower.”

Hunk nodded. “Sure thing. Yell if you need anything.” A crooked grin appeared. “No shyness between roommates.”

Lance didn’t smile back, but he looked Hunk in the eye and said, “Thanks.” For helping him. For not judging him. For not looking at him with pity.

Hunk nodded. He knew. “Anytime.” He pulled Lance up by the wrists. “Now, you think you can handle standing for a shower? I could fill the bath.”

“No, the shower’s fine. It’s…loud.” It would cover any other breakdowns he had.

Lance stood for a long time under the hot water. His skin was pink from scrubbing, which only made the hickeys sting more. He knew that Hunk would normally scold him for being wasteful, but he didn’t hear any banging on the door. Hunk was giving him space.

When he finally came out clean and dressed, he noticed that Hunk had stored the mango cupcakes away. The man himself was in his armchair watching Lance. “Hey,” he said.

Lance felt hollow. “It was only six days.”

Hunk shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Normal people don’t behave like this.”

“Who cares?”

Lance looked up at him. Hunk’s expression was open and accepting, but his voice had a tone that meant he wouldn’t tolerate self-pity from Lance. It was steadying.

“Who cares?” Hunk said again. “No one can tell you how you feel, and no one can tell you how to react, either. Your feelings for Keith hit you harder than anyone expected, especially you.”

Lance sunk down into the couch. “It shouldn’t have felt so big so fast.”

“It was novel.” Hunk leaned forward. “Losing something new when you’ve just begun to enjoy it can be the worst.”

Lance’s eyes burned again and he dug the heels of his hands into them. He didn’t want to keep crying; he wanted to be angry at Keith for not listening and burn all these feelings out. “This was a mistake.”

Hunk’s armchair squeaked as he rocked back and forth. “You think so?”

 _Yes, it was all a mistake. I should never have talked to Keith, never got to know him, never opened up to him, never fallen in —_ “No.” He couldn’t look at Hunk so he stared at his bare feet instead. “I kept wanting more with him. More time, more affection, more everything. It was the first time I wanted that.” His laugh was painfully false. “You know, I even started wondering what would happen after convocation.”

“Good. Keep thinking like that. Means you want this.” Hunk’s feet left Lance’s field of view. The couch dipped as he sat beside Lance. “Look, a lot of shit hit the fan today, and neither one of you is going to be thinking straight for a while. So…” Lance turned to Hunk, who held his arms out. “Ice cream and video games?”

Lance took the offered hug without hesitation. “Ice cream and video games,” he murmured into Hunk’s shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is less angst, more action.


	13. Recon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge and Lance strategize while Hunk tackles the front lines.

_“We are men of action, lies do not become us.” — William Goldman_

Hunk allowed Lance one day of grieving, and then they were, in his words, “going to war.” Lance doubted the efficacy of this. All he wanted to do was wallow in guilt and depression until he decomposed into the couch. This current plan was going great until Pidge came over. Skinny legs and khaki shorts filled Lance’s view.

“Hunk told me what happened,” she said. Her voice was softer than Lance expected, but still held a pragmatic tone.

“I’m sure Hunk’s told everyone what happened by now,” Lance said from his prone position.

“Being snarky isn’t going to help anything.” She shoved Lance’s legs off the couch and sat in the vacated spot. Picking up the remote, she switched off the _Tiny House Hunters_ episode that Lance was half-watching and turned on the Wii instead.

Lance sat up and resisted shoving her back, knowing she could put him on the ground in an instant. “Some days, I hate that we gave you a key,” he said as she started up _Bomberman Land_.

“Get over it, McLegs, you’re stuck with me. Now, we can either go over this while doing a two-player campaign, or we can go over this while I beat your ass one-on-one.”

Lance considered being a pouty jerk for a full two seconds, then picked up the other controller instead. “And when you say ‘this,’ what does that mean?”

“‘This’ is recon. We’re going to figure out the best way to explain to Keith what happened.”

Lance’s character on screen stood too close to an explosion and lost a life. “I fucked up is what happened.”

Pidge picked up a special item and completed the campaign herself. “Yeah, but you were doing alright before that.”

The plastic controller squeaked under Lance’s tight grip. “Damn it, Pidge, this isn’t a soap opera.” Black tar filled his stomach. “This isn’t going to be fixed by holding a boombox under his window.”

Pidge gave him a very cool side-eye. “Well, obviously.”

“Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be saying ‘classic Lance’ and be on your merry way?”

Lance regretted the accusation as soon as he said it, and Pidge’s unimpressed glare made him feel even worse.

“You’re not going to frighten me off, asshole. I just came from practice, so I am 5’2” of sweaty, endorphin-filled warrior. I am literally unable to feel fear at the moment.”

Lance dropped the controller on the couch and his head in his hands. He groaned as he felt the greasy strands of his hair. “Sorry. I’ve been all over the place. I feel like a grenade.”

Pidge turned back to the television, allowing him a chance to collect himself. “That’s because you’re grieving. It comes out in different ways. Now, help me with this battle royale.”

Lance picked the controller back up and they spent the next ten minutes trying to blow each other up. “No offence,” he said carefully, “but why _are_ you here? You don’t need this bullshit in your life. I certainly don’t,” he muttered.

Pidge didn’t even pause in planting bombs. “You’re right; I don’t need to be here. It’s not my relationship that imploded. I’m doing a two-year post-grad degree in eighteen months, so I certainly don’t have the time to be here. I didn’t even think the bet was a good idea in the first place, so I don’t want to reward your behaviour by fixing it. But you know why I _am_ here?”

Lance shook his head, heart in his throat.

“Because you’re my friend and you’re in pain. As any elementary student can tell you, that’s what friends do.” She took a measured breath, and Lance noticed that her eyes were shinier than normal. “Is it so hard to believe that people actually care about you?”

His character exploded on screen once more, but Lance didn’t see it. Trust Pidge to hit the nail on the head. He knew Hunk loved him like family, and that to be tolerated by Pidge was akin to being blood brothers, but somehow, he didn’t think that care extended to his self-destructive tendencies. “Thanks, Pidge.”

She nodded. “We’re not the only ones who care about you, you know.” Her mouth twisted like she was annoyed she had to state something so obvious.

Lance stared at her profile. “You think he really cared about me?” He didn’t need to clarify who.

Pidge turned to him. “Why do you think he was so hurt?”

He couldn’t look away from Pidge or else the world might stop making sense again. “What do I do?”

Pidge sighed like she was burdened with all the problems of the universe, but would shoulder the burden with dignity. “First of all, you can put those blue-million-mile eyes away. Save your mushy feelings for Hunk. I’m here to get your rear in gear.” She held up a finger to silence him. “And we’re going to do _that_ by talking in a calm and objective manner.”

Lance felt all the tar and confusion leak out of him. He needed direction from someone who wouldn’t let him hide behind histrionics or self-loathing. Pidge was the perfect person to be here. “Okay, where do we start?”

Pidge shut off the Wii and twisted to face him. “As I understand it, the main points of the problem are that you’re afraid your boyfriend doesn’t love you anymore, that you want to apologize for misleading him, and that you want to reconcile. Right?” She again intercepted before Lance could say anything. “And don’t argue the first point. You’re emotionally bonded to someone within the context of a romantic relationship. According to neuroscience and psychology, that’s love. So, shut up.”

Lance did.

“I assume you agree with the other two points?” she continued.

“Yes. God, yes. I never meant to hurt him, Pidge. I was so stupid about it.”

“That’s a good place to start.” She pulled out her phone and started typing.

Suspicion crept into Lance’s mind. “Wait a minute, where’s Hunk? He doesn’t have class until the afternoon.”

Pidge shot him a devastating smirk. “He’s working on the Keith front.”

_“What.”_

She had the gall to giggle. “Just sent him the confirmation text. He talks to Keith, I talk to you, we both prime you to have a decent conversation with each other.”

Lance rubbed his temples. “I take it back. I’d rather die alone and miserable than ever have you two direct my love life again.”

“Too late, big guy.”

&&&

When Hunk got the go-ahead text, he walked into the library ready to do battle the only way he knew how: through overwhelming honesty.

Shay had told him earlier that Keith worked Monday mornings, but declared herself to be Switzerland for the rest of it.

Keith saw him coming and looked worried. It was a safe reaction when a towering chef comfortable with knives came barrelling down on someone.

Keith stood up, even though he was still well below eye level. Hunk didn’t miss how Keith gripped the edge of the front desk. “Can I help you?”

Hunk stopped and also planted his hands on the desk. Keith visibly restrained himself from stepping back. “Look, I’m just going to come out and say it because this is going to be awkward enough as it is: Lance messed up and wants to apologize.”

Keith did step back then. “What? No. No, if he wants to apologize, then he can be here to do it himself.”

“It’s not only Lance who wants to apologize.”

Keith paused and searched Hunk’s face. “What do you mean?”

“This whole thing is my fault. I made the bet in the first place and then we both went behind your back. I was more concerned with getting Lance back on track then I was with your well-being, and for that, I am sorry.”

Keith looked absolutely flabbergasted. “What? You didn’t force Lance to take the bet or not tell me.” Keith’s expression darkened. “That was all him.” His eyes darted around as if he expected Lance to pop out of the shadows. “Where is he, anyway?”

“Pidge is yelling at him.”

Keith’s nose scrunched up. “Really?”

“She wears shorts all year round in _Saskatchewan_. You do not mess with her.” He tilted his head in thought. “She also knows how people work. She’ll be able to pull Lance out of his head.”

Keith stared at Hunk a moment longer, clearly thinking of something other than Pidge’s ludicrous fashion choices. He slumped down into the desk chair and rubbed his hand over his face. “How did I let this happen?”

“Look, the Lance you know is the one you met on day one. He saw you working here and I dared him to go talk to you. The bet started the day after that.”

“So, this stupid game you two had is the only reason he spoke to me again. Fantastic. He didn’t see me as a person, he saw me as a prize.” Keith gave a humourless laugh. “Not even that. Dessert was the prize. I was lower than that.”

Hunk turned so he was leaning back against the desk to offer the guy a little privacy. “I can’t really speak for Lance in this because who knows what’s going on in that hamster wheel of a brain of his. But I can read his behaviour pretty well. And you were good for him. He was focused and excited. He spent more time on those photos of you than I’ve seen him spend on anything.”

Hunk couldn’t see Keith’s face, but he heard him mumble, “That was just a school project.”

“Nah, it wasn’t only that.” Hunk crossed his ankles, the picture of nonchalance. He peered over his shoulder. Keith looked miserable. “You know he’s never used anyone outside of the contracted models for his photos, right?”

Keith shook his head.

“Yeah. He said that the models didn’t care about the gonzo process if it was professional. Then he doesn’t have to justify it to anyone. Heck, he barely explained it to me.” Keith frowned and Hunk could tell the gears were turning. “But he used you.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Keith’s frown of concentration became a scowl. “You’re right, Hunk. He did use me. He used me as a prop and an ego boost and a plaything. He fucking lied to me.”

Hunk sighed and prepared to retreat. “It wasn’t malicious. He didn’t want you to think of him differently.”

Keith stood. If his in-drawn breath was a little shaky, his expression was nothing but placid. “It still hurt.” He toyed with some pens before looking up at Hunk. “I don’t think you’re the best one to argue his case, Hunk. You’re a little biased on the matter. No offence,” he added.

Hunk straightened and held up his hands. “Of course not. I totally get it. What you need is someone impartial without any emotional connection to the situation. That’s the wisest move.” He started to back away. “Just don’t make any rash decisions regarding things like Lance’s phone number, okay?”

“Goodbye, Hunk.”

“Right. See you around.” Hunk left the library and walked out of sight of any of the windows. He texted Pidge: _“Mission accomplished.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUN FACT: In Regina, Saskatchewan, it was -43 degrees Celsius on Dec. 27, 2017. Pidge is a tough little mofo.


	14. Masks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance talks to Keith. It does not go well.

_“All critics should be assassinated.” — Man Ray_

Lance couldn’t believe he was doing this. He needed to do this, but it didn’t make it any less unbelievable.

He was giving Keith back the photographs.

Everything from that day in the park, all the originals and edited versions, was now on a memory stick in Lance’s pocket. Although he had hesitated with the photo of them he had stuck up on the wall. Eventually, he took it down and slipped it in a random notebook. It wasn’t quite destroying it, but at least Lance didn’t have to stare at it every day.

His mind skipped back to when Keith stayed the night. “What’s this?” Keith had asked as he came back from the bathroom.

Lance was already cocooned in bed. He barely had the energy to open his eyes to see what Keith was looking at. “It’s us. From the park.”

“I can see that,” Keith drawled. He looked over the rest of the photo board. “Why’d you print this one?”

“I liked how you were looking at me.”

Keith’s expression was complicated, but all he said was, “Can I stay the night?”

Lance flipped up the edge of the duvet in response and smiled when Keith snuggled in like he belonged there.

Lance shook his head, needing to focus. He had wrestled with this idea for two days after suggesting it to Pidge on Monday. She had analyzed it and torn it apart before finally judging it a worthwhile gesture.

The memory stick felt heavy as a stone as he walked into the library. Squaring his shoulders, he took a deep breath. He could do this. It was going to be a normal, mature conversation. Easy.

His heart picked up in an apprehensive gallop as he saw Keith emerge from the stacks. He expected that. What Lance didn’t expect was the punch to the gut at Keith’s appearance. A small, vindictive part of him had wanted Keith to look pale and tired from sleepless nights. Instead, Keith looked pristine. He had pushed his hair out of his face and he was dressed more like a scholar than a rebel. Like Lance hadn’t affected him at all.

Keith paused as he saw Lance, then walked past to put the front desk between them. It was the only moment he looked tired.

“Can I help you?” he asked in a tone that meant anything but.

“I need to give you this.” Lance’s voice didn’t tremble, much to his surprise. He dropped the memory stick in front of Keith. “It’s all the photos from that day in the park.”

“Why?” Keith stared at the stick.

Lance stared at Keith. “Two reasons, really. One is that I need you to see what I’m doing with your image, you know, in case you find it objectionable. It’s an ethical thing.”

Keith snorted. “Now you have ethics.” He toyed with the memory stick, but didn’t pick it up. “What if I asked you not to use any of them? What would happen?”

Lance swallowed. That was always a possibility. “Well, I’d respect your wishes. It’s your face, after all. Then I’d have to redo everything; find a new model, do re-shoots, try to repeat it. If that’s what you want, I’ll do it.” To prevent himself from reaching out, he put his hands in his pockets. “Is…is that what you want?”

Keith hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t know.” He looked straight at Lance. “Part of me — a very loud part — really wants to fuck up your life. But another part knows that won’t help fix what happened or make me feel better.” He sighed and pushed the memory stick towards Lance. “Do what you like with them.”

Lance out let a breath, unaware that he had been holding it. “Thank you, Keith.” He shoved the memory stick back in his pocket before Keith could change his mind. He wiped sweaty palms on his jeans and hid them in his jacket again before risking a glance up. Keith was standing with his arms crossed, staring at Lance with those too-clever grey eyes.

“You said there were two reasons.”

“Yes, I did.” The second reason was the main one Lance wanted to do this. “The other reason was that I don’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you.” He waited for Keith to react.

Nothing. “Thank you for clearing that up. If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.”

 _Wait, what_? Lance frowned as Keith rounded the desk. “Hold on a second.” He followed Keith into the stacks. “What was that?”

“That was me telling you that I didn’t feel taken advantage of during the photo shoot.” Keith was pulling books off the shelf seemingly at random.

Lance refused to be brushed off. His hands escaped his pockets and spread wide to punctuate his words. “Just like that? You’re fine with everything?”

“No, not _everything_.” Keith grabbed an abandoned cart and dumped his books on it. He pushed it down the aisle at a speed that could destroy a hapless undergrad.

“Well then, _talk to me_ about the other stuff.” It annoyed Lance that he had to chase after Keith, but Keith clearly wasn’t interested. Thanking his long legs, Lance caught up. “Just stop for a second, will you?” He planted himself in front of the cart, causing Keith to jerk back on it. Not hard enough, as the cart plowed into Lance and cut into the front of his ankles. “Ow! Goddamnit, what is it with book carts injuring me?”

He looked up in time to catch Keith smothering a smile, then return to his stoic non-expression. “Lance, move out of the way.”

“No, not until you tell me what set you off. What about the photos made you react like this?”

Keith squeezed the cart handle as if contemplating ramming into Lance again. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Bullshit. You were _literally_ running away from me.”

There was a heavy pause as both realized the other wasn’t going to let up. Lance could out-annoy anyone, so Keith relented first. “Hunk told me you only use the contracted models.”

“Yeah, and?”

Keith gave him a narrow-eyed look. “And then you asked me.”

“To get to know you, idiot.” He was getting agitated in the face of Keith’s coldness. He wanted to crack that façade all over again. “Yeah, I wanted a non-professional model, but more than that I wanted to share it with you like you shared the book thing with me. And it paid off. Those are great photographs.”

“It certainly worked in your favour, considering you were just trying to get close to me to win.”

“Not everything I did was motivated by that stupid bet.” Lance had lost his feeling of noble sacrifice and was getting outright irritated. “You are so stubborn, you know that? You refuse to see beyond whatever allows you to stay angry.”

Keith jerked his head up. “Why shouldn’t I be angry? This —” He waved his hands around himself. “— whole thing was to make _you_ feel better, not me. You don’t care what I think about it. You don’t care now, and you didn’t care then.”

Lance was glad the cart was between them, otherwise he might have launched himself at Keith. His stomach felt like it had vanished completely, and his heart appeared to have taken over the extra real estate. He squeezed the cart handle to keep from shaking. “I know it’s hard to believe, but everything I did was genuine. Everything you saw was real. Would you rather I act like I do with everyone else? You want _that_ version? Fine, alright.” Sweeping his hair back, he put on a plastic charming smile, one he hadn’t used since that first disastrous day with Keith. “Hey, hot stuff, are you from space, cause your body is out of this world.”

Keith said nothing, staring with wide eyes.

Lance dropped the act. “Congratulations, Keith, you were right. I’m shallow and selfish and couldn’t possibly care about you. It’s not like a six-day relationship could be meaningful, anyway.” He turned away before he could break down, but he saw Keith’s face before he did. He looked as shocked at Lance’s outburst as Lance felt.

Lance didn’t run out of the library, but it was a close thing. He ignored Shay as he passed the front desk. He needed to move, move, _move_. He didn’t think as he grabbed his bike and started pedalling. _What the fuck happened back there?_ Traffic picked up downtown, so he veered off a side street towards the residential areas. Old-fashioned bungalows eventually gave way to cookie-cutter duplexes and townhouses, and he didn’t slow down until his legs burned and his breath was rasping in his chest. He looked around the suburb, but nothing was familiar. He was lost.

_At least it isn’t raining._

Lance didn’t live in a pathetic fallacy, so the clouds didn’t open to further prolong his misery. But the thought did remind him of the last time it rained. When he had been in Keith’s car and everything felt new and scary and right.

He texted Hunk with numb fingers, asking for a ride home. Then he sat on the curb and finally acknowledged what he had said to Keith. _Oh god, I think I just broke up with him for real._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three chapters left to get this sorted.


	15. Back to Shore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith finally gets some help of his own.

_“When I’m not creating something, I get bored; I despair.” — Alejandro Jodorowsky_

On Friday afternoon, a soft knock on his office door pulled Shiro away from his notes. Keith stood in the open doorway looking uncertain. “Do you have a minute?”

“Of course, come in.” Shiro waved Keith towards the empty chair across from him. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. How’s the work placement going?”

“It’s fine.” Keith closed the door and sat on the edge of the chair. His shoulders were tense and his eyes darted over the room. Shiro waited.

“I think I fucked up,” Keith said.

“Oh?”

“It’s stupid.”

“There are no stupid problems, just ones we don’t recognize the importance of yet.”

Keith nodded. He’d heard it before. “It’s about a guy.”

Shiro settled into his chair. “Alright. Tell me about it.”

As soon as Keith started explaining, Shiro knew what happened. _Oh, Lance_.

“And he slept with me _for pastry,”_ Keith was saying. “Then tried to justify it later. Who does that? What’s wrong with him?” He blew air through his nose like a bull. “And then, _and then_ , he tries to be this noble white knight and give back the photos, like _that_ was the biggest problem between us.”

“Did he explain why?”

“Yeah, he didn’t want me to feel ‘taken advantage of.’” The phrase dripped with sarcasm.

“And what about his broader motivations for the bet? Did he explain the reason behind that?”

“He wanted to use me. I was a conquest.”

Shiro lifted an eyebrow. “Did he say that?”

Keith crossed his arms. “No,” he grumbled. He stared at a spot on Shiro’s desk for a long time. “I guess I didn’t let him fully explain why he made the bet. But should I?” His gaze swung back up to Shiro. “Should I even give him the benefit of the doubt?”

“It’s hard to make decisions when you don’t have all the information. Not to mention you’re also angry and hurt right now and rational thought is difficult.” He held his hands up to forestall Keith. “I’m not saying you’re not justified in your anger — you are — but don’t base long-term decisions on it. You should talk to him in a public, neutral place.”

“I don’t know much talking would help.” Keith’s face twisted. “It didn’t the other day.”

Shiro leaned forward, wondering how to explain this without revealing that he knew Lance was involved. “Keith, people behave in strange ways because of unknown motivations. With some people, you can observe their behaviour and recognize patterns, so when they act out of character, you notice it. How long have you known this guy?”

“Six days.”

“That’s how long you dated him. How long have you _known_ him?”

Shiro waited as Keith silently counted the days. “Almost three weeks.”

“Okay. And do you think you would be able to recognize out-of-character behaviour?”

This was going to be tricky. Shiro just needed Keith to stop and think, but the guy was stubborn as anything.

This time proved no exception. “Not if he was playing a part from the beginning. Isn’t that what you see in abusive relationships? The abuser is all smiles and kindness until the first time they hit someone.”

Shiro frowned. “Did something like that happen?”

“No, no, he wouldn't —” Keith stopped. His gaze unfocused and his arms dropped. “I almost did, though.” He blinked up at Shiro. “When I found out about the bet. I wanted to hurt him and make him feel as bad as I did. He knew I could do it, too. But —” Keith’s focus went to his hands lying limp in his lap. “He didn’t defend himself. He didn’t push me away or block me. He didn’t even shout back. Just…took it.”

 _There it is._ There was the pause in the maelstrom Shiro was looking for. Maybe they could make it out of this storm intact. “Why do you think he did that?”

“I don’t know, Shiro, maybe he’s a secret masochist.” The burst of anger spluttered out. “Maybe he thought he deserved it.”

“Hmm, interesting.” Shiro met Keith’s glare with a benign smile. “Why would he think he deserved it if he also thought he didn’t do anything wrong?”

Keith’s glare turned into a full-on scowl. “You’re a mean one, Mr. Shirogane.” His dark eyes sharpened with intensity. “Wait, do you know who I’m talking about?”

Shiro traced a line on his tattoo, considering how close to confidentiality he could get without breaking it. Keith was always too perceptive for his own good and never let a question go until he had an answer. “This story sounds like something I’ve heard before,” he coincided.

“Has Lance been to see you?”

“Keith, you know I can’t tell you that.”

“But if I asked if you knew him from around campus, you could tell me?”

Shiro shook his head. “I am aware of his character. Let’s leave it at that.”

Keith stared him down a moment longer. “So, you already knew about this.”

 _“If_ I’ve heard anything, it would only be from one side. Right now, I care about your side. I’m here to help _you_. What would help you right now? What piece of information would give you peace of mind?”

Keith stared at the tiny onyx lioness Shiro had on his desk. Shiro didn’t push any further. He had shown Keith where the shoreline was; now he needed to reach it himself. _He’s a smart guy. He’ll figure it out_. As a student counsellor, Shiro didn’t do couples, but he wished he could get Lance and Keith in the same room to at least have a decent mediation. As it was, this was the best he could offer.

“Hunk said something,” Keith said. “Lance’s friend, he mentioned something when I saw him on Monday. Everyone else was saying how the bet needed to be won within a week, but he’s the only one who mentioned a specific date.”

“Yes?”

Keith’s eyes were growing wider. “He said it started the day after Lance first talked to me.” He grabbed Shiro’s desk calendar and flipped it back to April. “We met on the fourteenth, so the bet started on the fifteenth, which means —”

 _You got it_. Shiro brushed a hand over his mouth to cover the smile. “And what day is it now?”

“May 3.”

“Meaning the bet would have been over…”

Tiny tremors were running through Keith’s hands. “On the twenty-first. When I kissed him.” He touched his mouth, but didn’t seem to realize he was doing it. “That means…”

Shiro stopped trying to smother his smile. “The bet was already over and he kept seeing you. Kept deepening the relationship.”

This revelation seemed to send Keith into a tailspin. “He had so many chances to tell me about it afterwards! Why would — Hunk said Lance kept it secret so I wouldn't think of him differently.” He leaned forward onto Shiro’s desk. “What if he hides something like that again? Something that he's afraid of telling me?"

“I guess that only matters if you want to keep seeing him,” Shiro said mildly. “And that brings us back to the question of what information you would like to know.”

Keith wrapped his arms around himself and took a shaky breath. “I want to know why he kept seeing me after the bet was over.”

“You don't think it was because he liked you?”

“That can't — there has to be more to it than that.”

Shiro nodded. “Okay. That’s a good place to start. Communicate that to him and see what his answer is. Most importantly —” He paused, waiting until Keith looked up. “Listen to your gut. Sometimes you’ve already made up your mind and it has to bang around until the other parts of your brain get the message.”

Keith nodded. “Okay. I can do that. I just — I need to get my head around this.”

“Take as long as you need. Patience —”

“Yields focus. I remember, Shiro.” Keith gave him a small smile. “Thanks.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “I really needed to talk to someone who —” He stopped and his eyes narrowed. “That bastard,” he hissed.

“Keith?”

“Hunk.” Keith thumped a hand on the armrest. “He did it again. He told me I should talk to someone impartial knowing that meant you, just like he let drop the dates of the bet. He played me.” But Keith’s grin was a little awestruck.

Shiro couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. “He would have made a good therapist. Now, good luck with everything.”

Keith nodded, but Shiro could tell he was a million miles away.

&&&

Lance lay in the grass of the quad thinking about the shit-tastic turn his life had taken. He had just come from another meeting with Allura in which she praised his newest portraits and Lance tried to hide the fact that he felt like garbage. It hurt to look at photos of Keith’s face when he was soft and open like that. Lance kept seeing Keith’s icy expression from Wednesday.

If Allura noticed his less than enthusiastic attitude, she didn’t comment on it.

Why was he so hung up on this guy? Keith had made it clear that he was no longer interested. Rejection never bothered him before, so why couldn’t he shake it off and move on?

_Because you’ve never had feelings for anyone the way you do for him._

“Stupid voice of reason,” Lance muttered. It sounded suspiciously like Hunk. “I too have had feelings.”

But he couldn’t come up with any examples. He had friends whom he loved like family, but wasn’t _in love_ with them. Was there anyone in his life who counted in that way? His platonic relationships lasted for years, but the romantic ones only lasted a few weeks if he was lucky. In fact, his longest romantic tangle was with Susie Winchester in high school. That lasted a grand total of three months before she went off to university and said he wasn’t long-distance material.

“Maybe I just don’t get a long-term thing,” he said to the breeze. “Maybe that’s just for other people.”

Which royally sucked, because Lance _did_ want a long-term thing. He wasn’t against it by any means. He had just placed it in the box labelled ‘One Day’ and forgot about it.

And then Keith and his stupid shark grin had busted in and thrown the box across the room, forcing Lance to actually look in it for once.

What Lance needed to do was pack it all up again and throw it back into the vault. Maybe set it on fire for good measure.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He expected a text from Pidge or Hunk checking up on him, but his stomach decided to disappear when he saw who it was.

 _“Hey,”_ Keith wrote. _“I’ve been thinking, and we need to talk. Really talk, not argue. I’m not promising anything.”_

Lance’s mind swirled with a hundred different reactions. Talking was good, but Keith made it sound like he wasn’t planning on getting back together. He stared at the message for a long time before he replied. Thank god for autocorrect, as Lance’s hands fumbled the buttons several times. _“Of course. Got a place in mind?”_

Keith responded immediately. _“In the park where we did the photos. Tomorrow at 1.”_

_“I’ll be there.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank heck for Shiro being the only one having his head on straight.
> 
> Next week brings the last chapter followed by an epilogue.


	16. Yield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you have to give in to win.

_“I’ll tell you the truth and it’s up to you to live with it.” ― William Goldman_

Lance was the first one at the park on Saturday. He sat on the warped bleachers and tried not to fidget. _I’d probably get a sliver in my ass. And deserve it, too._ Deep in his gut, he knew that this was his last chance. Either Keith would hear him out and forgive him…or he wouldn’t.

“Hey.”

Lance whipped around. Keith stood by the bleachers with his hands in his pockets. “Hey,” Lance replied. He watched Keith climb up the bleachers and sit down, putting a good five feet of space between them. When Keith didn’t say anything, Lance cleared his throat. “Where do you want to start?”

“I want to start by apologizing.” Keith picked at the wood under his hand. “For not listening to you and making assumptions.” He looked up and saw Lance’s shocked expression. He rolled his eyes. “I’m still mad you lied to me, though.”

“Right, okay.” Lance looked Keith over. Had he suffered a brain injury in the past three days? Calm and reasonable wasn’t what he expected. “Thanks?”

“And the other thing is.” Keith chewed on his bottom lip. Lance forced himself to stop staring. “The other thing is I want to know why you went along with the bet. And why you kept seeing me after. And —” Keith huffed in frustration. “All of it. I need to know all of it.”

“Might be here a while, then,” Lance joked.

Keith stayed looking out over the baseball field. A jackrabbit was hunkered down in the grass with only an occasional ear twitch to give it away. “I’ve got time.”

Lance blew out a harsh breath. “Okay. The bet was a stupid idea and I feel terrible that it ever made you feel less important to me because of it.”

Keith was looking at Lance the way he looked at a particularly jargon-filled journal article. “I’ve already heard the apology. Now I’m asking for an explanation.”

“The explanation for everything. Alright.” Lance stood and walked down to the grass. He needed to move or else he might vomit from the tightness in his stomach. “Why did I agree to the bet? Simple but stupid: I like a challenge. But that’s not the question you’re really asking. You want to know why Hunk made the bet in the first place. Also simple: I couldn’t stop looking at you.”

Something startled the jackrabbit and it took off across the field. Its fur was halfway between winter white and summer brown, not blending in with either environment. Lance could relate. He didn’t know where he stood with people anymore. Fall back into old habits, or continue along this new path and risk more heartache?

He glanced back at Keith, who was staring at him with intense focus. “Hunk didn’t pick you at random,” Lance continued. “Before I even spoke to you, you caught my interest. I couldn’t concentrate on anything that day. Then Hunk needled me into actually talking to you and I managed to fuck that up real good.” He laughed half-heartedly. “Do you remember that? I felt so awkward. I didn’t even know how to have a conversation that wasn’t flirtation.”

“I remember,” Keith said.

“So, then I said something about how next time talking to you would go better, and Hunk latched on to that and here we are.” Lance kicked at the rotten corner of the lowest bench. “I would have tried to get to know you eventually, I think. The bet just added a deadline.”

He fell silent as Keith digested this. The wood splintered under Lance’s sneaker. He was unsettled. He wanted to run until he stopped feeling anything and at the same time he wanted to yell at Keith about how much he’d been hurt. He smiled grimly. _Fight or flight._

A large chunk flew off the bench. Keith held all the power in this interaction. He had initiated it, and he controlled all the questions asked. It was an interrogation instead of a dialogue. Lance wanted to tip the balance.

“Would you have stayed if you knew about it?” he asked.

Keith blinked down at him. “What?”

“Let’s say I told you. ‘Oh, yeah, by kissing me, I won a stupid bet with my friend. Still wanna go on a date?’” Lance frowned. “It wouldn’t have gone anywhere. _We_ wouldn’t have gone anywhere. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Keith looked away and picked at his gloves he had put on since the other day. _Armour. He needed his armour._ “You’re not wrong.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you. I had finally found someone I wanted a relationship with and didn’t want to see it destroyed with a word. It’s called self-preservation, you twat.”

Keith turned to him and those tiny, beautiful eye crinkles appeared. “At least you’re talking to me like you’re yourself again.”

Momentarily thrown off by the change in tone, Lance asked, “How was I sounding before?”

“Like Hunk and Pidge had coached you.” Keith grew serious again. “Like it was what I wanted to hear.” He sighed and stood up, and for one terrifying second, Lance thought he was leaving. Instead, Keith nodded towards the playground behind them. “C’mon, before you destroy the whole bench.”

Lance followed him and watched as Keith pulled himself on top of the monkey bars. What was going on? Before, Keith was angry and suspicious, and now he was letting Lance have an outlet for his nervous energy.

He hauled himself up the fireman pole, then clambered over the platform railing to settle on the bar above the swings. Perhaps he was a little more elaborate than he needed to be, but whatever.

Keith seemed to know it, too. “The fastest tree climber in Saskatchewan,” he said.

That half-smile was going to undo Lance. “What else did you want to know?”

Keith paused, and Lance saw his throat working as he decided. “Was any of it real? Even during the bet, was it — was it real?”

The bloom of irritation at Keith having the audacity to ask clashed with the sorrow that he felt he even needed to. _Who hurt you?_ Lance took a breath before answering. “Keith, everything was real. Maybe at the beginning I was trying to charm you instead of getting to know you, but I meant all of it. It was never about the bet. You think _cupcakes_ are that important to me?”

Keith wrapped his arms around himself. “I don’t know what’s important to you.”

“You’re important to me! That’s why I’m here.” Lance’s vehemence almost made him fall off the bar. He righted himself before continuing. “I took a risk for you. I put in effort and tried something that scared the shit out of me. What did I get from you?”

They both froze. _Oh, crap, now I’ve done it._

But Keith only looked at the ground and nodded. “Shay told me about you, you know. Said you were a flirt who never stuck around for more than a few days.” He actually looked rueful. “I expected you to not turn up one day or see you with someone else. But you kept making a nuisance of yourself. I worked with Shay for four months and she would probably call me an acquaintance at best.” He looked over at Lance. “But you called me a friend after three days.”

 Lance didn't know what to say at the open, painful look on Keith's face.

He continued. “So, I started to trust you. Just a little because I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop and when it didn’t, I let myself get invested.” Keith shrugged. “And then it fell apart. It was too good to be true, and I was right.” Except he looked miserable as he said it.

Lance swung his legs back and forth. “I kept coming back because I liked you. You know what would have happened if I lost?” Keith shook his head. “I’d do all the cleaning in the apartment for a month. That’s it. Nothing big, nothing life or death. I could have handled losing the bet. But I didn’t want to lose you.”

It was the cheesiest yet most sincere thing Lance could think to say. Thank god his hands were occupied with keeping him balanced. He had expected, even prepared for, another shouting match. Instead, they were laying themselves open and waiting for the final blow to land. This was infinitely harder than being angry and hurt.

When Keith spoke, his voice was clear of inflection. “You’re putting a lot of work into a relationship that only lasted six days.” He watched Lance for his reaction.

Lance blew out a breath. “Six days isn’t nothing. It was long enough for me to know that we had something special. It was something I wanted to continue, and I haven’t felt that in a long time. I don’t want to give up on us. And yeah, we’re still going to find out things about the other that we don’t like or that annoy us. I sometimes get so wrapped up in my projects that I forget about everything else. You have terrible taste in music.”

“Hey,” Keith said with token indignation.

“But is that uncertainty worth throwing away everything now? I fucked up and I hurt you, but I know I never want to do that again. I care about you and I care about being with you.” Lance took a breath, adrenaline racing through his body. “And I guess that’s all I have to say.”

Keith opened his mouth, but was interrupted by a flock of children rushing onto the playground. Their excited shouting broke the heavy mood, and Keith hopped off the monkey bars, landing with far more grace than was fair. Lance followed as he figured he would always follow. Keith had become a strange magnetic point in Lance’s life that Lance continually circled back to. They stood at the edge of the playground, Keith watching the children and Lance watching Keith. He was close enough that Lance could take his hand if Lance wanted.

“Keeping the bet a secret,” Keith said, and Lance took note of the contemplative tone. “That’s not you. You didn’t want to, but the rules said you had to, right?” Lance nodded. “So, in a twisted way, you were trying to be honourable and not cheat. You wanted to win on your own merit.”

“What are you getting at?”

Keith huffed. “I’m trying to find a logical reason to justify taking you back.”

Lance started. “Wait. Wait. ‘Taking?’ As in present tense? As in — you’re — what?”

Keith rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in the most petulant display possible. “This last week has been hell. I thought I could stay angry and forget about you, but once again —” Keith raised an eyebrow at him. “You made a nuisance of yourself. And I finally had to see past my anger and realize that maybe I had also fucked up.” Keith dropped all pretence of being annoyed and looked at Lance with those clear grey eyes. “I also don’t want to lose you.”

“You haven’t.”

Keith shrugged. How could he be so casual when he held Lance’s heart in his hand? “Well, then. I guess you haven’t lost me, either.”

Lance stared at him for another moment, and when Keith’s mouth quirked in an awkward half-smile, Lance swept him up in a bear hug.

“You jerk,” he said into Keith’s shoulder. “You bastard, you absolute, total butthead. Wait till I tell Hunk about this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Keith said, utterly unconcerned. He pulled Lance back to look him in the eye. “Can we start over? No secrets or presumptions. Just us.”

Lance had to blink a few times to clear his vision, and his voice was perhaps a little watery. “Yeah. Yeah, I want that.”

“C’mere, you weirdo.” Keith gripped the back of Lance’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss.

It was magical and perfect and…in full view of a bunch of five-year-olds.

“Eww, grown-ups kissing!” squealed one little girl.

Lance laughed as he broke off the kiss. “That’s probably the first time anyone’s called me a grown-up.” He took in Keith’s lidded eyes and the wry twist to his mouth. Lance also took in the tension still in Keith’s shoulders and the way his eyes searched Lance’s own. “Want to grab a coffee?” He scrunched up his face. “Not at the student lounge. I think I’ve had quite enough of Nyma for a while.”

“Yeah, okay. I know a good place.” He took Lance’s hand and started walking out of the park.

Lance let the silence breathe for a few moments. “In the spirit of full disclosure,” he started. Keith looked askance at him. “My favourite book isn’t _The Rum Diary_.”

Keith laughed in relief, then said, “Wait, what? You said I was right.”

Lance waved a finger at him. “No, no, nope, didn’t happen. I said you figuring out all that stuff about me was amazing, and it was, but the book was wrong.”

“What is it, then?”

“ _The Princess Bride_.”

Keith blinked, then burst out laughing. “Of course it is.”

“Daring deeds, sword fights, pirates, princesses, the bonds of friendship, and true love’s kiss, obviously.” He winked at Keith.

Keith rolled his eyes. “Shut up.” But he kept hold of Lance’s hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout-out to Brooklyn 99 for having the best 'this is a six-day relationship' speech ever, which I borrowed parts of for this. I didn't intend the six-day thing, but that's how the numbers shook out and I went with it.
> 
> One more chapter to go!


	17. Epilogue - Convocation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six months later.

_“As you wish.” — William Goldman_

A chill had settled into the early November air. Summer was well and truly gone, and autumn was creeping away after it. Heavy grey clouds threatened snow, but nobody was outside watching them.

Lance tipped his mortarboard at a jaunty angle and sidled up to Keith. “What’s a pretty young thing like yourself doing in a town like this?”

Keith elbowed him in the stomach. “Hanging out with miscreants, apparently.” He ignored Lance’s wounded expression and adjusted Lance’s hood to better fall over his shoulders. “How do you manage to make even goofy robes look good?” Keith grumbled.

“It’s a curse,” Lance said. He reached out to rub the red stripe on Keith’s hood that marked him a Lib Sci graduand. “Although, for the record, I think you look pretty decent in yours, too.”

Keith’s face softened and he began leaning towards Lance until he was interrupted by Hunk coming up from behind him.

“Alright, lovebirds, knock it off. Everyone knows their places?”

Lance rolled his eyes. “All we do is walk across the stage when our name is called. It’s literally impossible to mess up.”

“So you would think,” Hunk countered. “But what if you shake hands with the wrong person? Or grab the wrong degree? Or sit in the wrong seat? Or —”

“Okay, Mama Bear, calm down. We still have half an hour until the ceremony. Why don’t you and Keith look at the itinerary again?”

Keith’s face warred between remaining polite for Hunk and looking murderous for Lance. “And where will you be?”

“I…” Lance glanced around. “I have to speak to Allura. Be right back, have fun!” He turned as Hunk pulled out the program and looked over the seating arrangements for the twentieth time.

Allura was standing by one of the big picture windows that lined the foyer of the auditorium. Her hair was loose and flowing, and the cool winter light made it look like it was spun from ash. If Keith thought Lance made the academic robes look good, Allura made them look like royalty.

Next to her was Shiro. He was in a dark suit instead of robes, which was accented with a light grey tie and pocket square. He was leaning in to speak with Allura, and Lance was struck by how well they complemented each other, aesthetically speaking. Maybe, after today when he was no longer a student, he could finally ask if he could photograph them.

To cover his nerves at that daring thought, he put on a wide grin and walked up to them. “Oh good, the two people who know all my deepest, darkest secrets talking to each other. This is perfect.”

Allura ignored the comment and swept him up in a hug. “I’m so proud of you, Lance.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he wheezed. She was much stronger than she looked.

She put him down and held his shoulders. Lance felt his eyes start to burn at the tenderness in her gaze. “I have a surprise for you,” she said. She pulled a business card from her purse. “I contacted an old friend who has a small gallery in town. He’s looking for something new as a spring installation. Something wild and energetic.” Mischief glinted in her eyes. “Something gonzo.”

Lance’s heart skittered to a stop, then picked up in double-time as he read over the card. “Are you serious?”

“I would need your consent to show him your portfolio, of course,” she continued, “but it would come with my highest recommendation. Would you be interested?”

“Yes, yes, oh my god, yes,” Lance babbled. “Thank you. A gallery. For me, with my photos. I gotta tell Keith, I —”

“Breathe, Lance,” Allura said. “I’ll call him after the ceremony and tell him. In the meantime, I have to mingle with the rest of the department heads.” Plastering on the fakest smile Lance had ever seen, she moved towards a tall man with pointed features who was talking to Professor Haggar. “Professor Lotor, how lovely to see you. How is your top student? I believe my student and he are acquainted.”

Lance turned to see Shiro muffling a laugh. “She’s very diplomatic,” Shiro said. “You’d never guess she can’t stand them.”

“She is a marvel,” Lance agreed. He eyed Shiro’s meticulous suit. “I didn’t think you attended these things.”

Shiro shrugged. “I see these people for years sometimes. I want to share in their successes. Speaking of which.” He smiled at Lance. “You did good, kid.”

Lance sniffed. All these people giving him soft looks and proud smiles were going to completely undo him. “Thanks, Shiro. Really, for everything.” Behind Shiro, Lance could see Keith had escaped Hunk and was coming to join them. “You helped me in more ways than one.”

“Hey, Shiro,” Keith said.

“Hey,” Shiro said. “I saw your name in the program. Congratulations on the academic award.”

“Thanks,” Keith said as Lance looked between them.

“Do you guys know each other?” he asked.

Keith looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, Shiro helped me out a few times. Especially when I was being stupid and forgot how to count.”

Lance fixed a hard look at Shiro, who was looking out the window far too innocently. The pieces clicked together, and Lance wrapped the older man in a hug. “Now I owe you a life debt or something.”

Shiro disentangled himself from Lance. “Don’t mention it. Just remember how important communication is. That goes for both of you.” He nodded at them and walked off.

Lance stared at Keith, who looked back at him with wide eyes. “Holy shit,” Lance said.

“Yeah.”

“We should buy him a cake.”

Keith gave a lop-sided smile. “Do they sell cakes for ‘Thanks for saving our relationship’?”

Lance hummed. “We could start a new tradition. May 4 can be _Star Wars_ Day and Idiotic Couples Day.”

“Why May 4?”

“It’s when we got back together. Remember, the playground, the emotional ineptness, the screaming children interrupting our happily-ever-after kiss?”

“That’s funny. I’ve been counting since April 21. Our actual first kiss.” Keith reached up and straightened Lance’s mortarboard. “Might have made our one-year anniversary a little awkward. I was going to ask Hunk to make those cupcakes you like.” He blinked at the look on Lance’s face. “What?”

“You’re thinking of our anniversary. You’re planning on having an anniversary.”

“Lance, don’t get emotional on me here. We have to be on stage in ten minutes.” But he smiled as he said it, that damn secret shark smile that still drove Lance mad.

“I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Keith slung an arm around Lance’s shoulders and steered him towards the auditorium.

“Stay with me forever.”

Keith pulled Lance close and said, “As you wish,” then cackled with laughter as Lance groaned.

“I regret ever telling you about that.”

Keith pulled him in for a kiss on the cheek. “I love you, too.”

Lance was about to answer with something sappy when he heard a voice down the hall. A voice with a Kiwi accent. “No way,” he said. “I have to see this.”

He pulled Keith along until they rounded a corner and saw Hunk standing in front of a tall man with bright orange hair. Even his moustache was orange. Hunk stood at attention trying to be formal, but judging by his shining eyes and wobbling lip, the emotion threatened to overwhelm him.

“And as a mark of your accomplishments,” the man was saying, “I bequeath this badge of honour onto you. Take it, and wear it through every kitchen you conquer, from simple diner to Michelin-star restaurant.” The man handed over a band of orange cloth — the same orange as his hair, Lance noticed — with great ceremony.

“Thank you, Chef. I will wear it with pride.” Hunk and the man saluted each other, then the man walked away.

Lance came up to him. “Was that who I think it is?”

“The great Coran Hieronymous Wimbleton Symthe.” Hunk sniffed. “He gives out only five orange bands a year to his best students.” Hunk tied the band around his head like he was an ancient warrior, then tucked it under his mortarboard. “I won’t let you down, sir!”

“Congrats, man,” Keith said.

Lance glanced around them. “I thought Pidge said she was going to meet us before we sat down.” Crowds of students in black robes swirled around them as they entered the auditorium.

Hunk was frowning at his phone. “She says ‘Look up.’ What does that — oh.” He pointed up. They all turned to see a security camera tucked in the corner of the ceiling. “She says, ‘Gotcha.’” Hunk sighed. “She really needs to stop hacking into the school system.”

“Pfft, like they’ll ever catch her. C’mon,” Lance said as he threw his arms around Hunk and Keith. “Let’s go graduate like real adults.”

&&&

The ceremony was short and succinct, thanks to the small number of grad students. Lance waved to his family up in the balcony, then stood up and cheered when Hunk crossed the stage and did the same for Keith, getting teary both times. By the time it was his turn to cross the stage, it was a blur. He remembered shaking hands with the dean and Allura and holding his degree too tight. Then he was on the other side and it was all over. He had graduated. He had a freaking Master of Fine Arts. No one could take that away.

It was with a strange melancholy that he looked around the auditorium as they filed out. This part of his life was over now. It shouldn’t have felt so final; he had hardly gone back to campus since turning in his thesis and final portfolio in the summer. But now he really had no reason to return here.

What would he do now? Hunk might want to travel to a bigger city for work, and Lance couldn’t keep the apartment on his own. Keith had mentioned that his roommate Slav was going to Switzerland to do something with CERN, which also left Keith with a full apartment to pay for. Perhaps…but that thought was best left for the future. Today was about celebrating their achievements.

“Congrats, nerds!” Pidge came flying out of the crowd and hung off Hunk’s back like a deranged spider monkey.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Hunk asked. He tried to dislodge Pidge, but she clung on too tightly. Eventually, he accepted giving her a piggyback ride.

They needed to drop off their robes and hats, and then it was back into the general population to meet up with their families. Keith and Lance had already talked about introducing the other to their parents — Lance’s folks would be all too welcoming of another person to feed, and Keith’s would be more concerned with the degree itself than who Keith was dating.

As they walked past the foyer windows, the sun slipped beneath the cloud cover to gild everything a bright umber. It even brought out the red highlights in Keith’s hair. As he looked at Lance, his eyes were turned into molten metal. _Golden hour._ Lance slipped his hand down to tangle his fingers with Keith’s, who squeezed back.

“C’mon, weirdo,” Keith said. “Let’s go face the music.”

“Yeah, I was promised pizza if I turned up,” Pidge said.

Lance took in the sight of his strange little family. “I’m just glad we all ended up here.”

Hunk rolled his eyes and said, “I thought I was supposed to be the sappy one. Buck up, man, my mom’s been asking after you all month and if she thinks you’re upset, she’ll ask why I haven’t been taking care of you.”

"Fair enough.” He gripped Keith’s hand and bumped shoulders with Hunk while Pidge ruffled his hair from above. He pushed open the door and together they walked out into the sunset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, I can’t stop Shiro from saving Lance and Keith’s relationship in any universe, and for that he obviously always deserves cake.
> 
> I also made a fanmix on 8tracks that is wholly self-indulgent and not at all serious. Listen to it [here.](https://8tracks.com/alex_caligari/stupidly-hot-librarian)
> 
> Thank you everyone for following me on the crazy journey of my first long-form, multi-chaptered fic that I actually planned out and wrote before jumping the gun. I have a few more projects brewing, so subscribe and watch this space!

**Author's Note:**

> Now with art! Oresamaweome did an amazing cosplay of Keith from the photo shoot and she bloody nailed it. [See the whole photo series on her Instagram!](https://www.instagram.com/p/BiBs7w9jvCJ/)
> 
> Check me out on [my Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/the_alex_caligari/) or [my Twitter.](https://twitter.com/alex_caligari)


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